Freeze on the Stones
by Robin4
Summary: When Cora casts the curse, everyone suffers. Regina is married to the prince she never wanted. Gold tries to hide his affair with the librarian from Cora. Mary Margaret is drowning in debt, and Emma finds herself stuck in a dangerous town where no one is safe from the Evil Queen. This Storybrooke and its story are darker than the one you know. Ensemble Fic. Rumbelle, OQ, Snowing.
1. Chapter 1: The Choices We Make

Summary:One choice can change fate. Regina chooses love, Snow stays silent, and Cora casts the curse. Rumplestiltskin knows that trusting Cora with that much power is dangerous—but he has no choice if he wants to find his son. 28 years later, Gold and Regina awaken in Storybrooke and must work together to make the Savior believe.

Ships: Rumbelle, Snowing, StableQueen, OutlawQueen (eventually)

Note: Obviously, this AU kicks off before season 1 begins. Some things in Storybrooke will remain the same with Cora casting the curse, and others will be very different. The Enchanted Forest portions of this tale will be told 'flashback style', so keep an eye out for the "Years Before the Curse" notes before some scenes. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some chapters have non-explicit references to rape/non-con, and some references to torture. Cora's Storybrooke is not a nice place. Chapters will be appropriately marked.

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><p><strong>Freeze on the Stones<strong>

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><p>"<em><strong>I want to make them bow. I want their kneecaps to crack, and freeze on the stones. I want their necks to break from bending."<strong>_

_**- Cora**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One—"The Choices We Make"<strong>_

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><p><span><em>One Week Before the Curse<em>

This wasn't the way things were supposed to happen. Sitting in a rat-infested cell, slowly going (more) insane, Rumplestiltskin had supposed that he would get more out of his intentional imprisonment. When he'd originally conceived the plan, it had seemed so perfectly formed, so controllable and so predictable. But he'd introduced an inherently unpredictable force into the game, used a queen instead of a pawn, and now he had to reap the consequences of the chaos he had sown.

"It's just us, dearie," he called into the blackness surrounding the cell that Snow and her oh-so-charming prince had put him in. "You can show yourself!"

One of the rats—indistinguishable from the others until it twitched just so—slowly transformed into a cloud of wispy purple smoke, swirling around once, twice, and then a third time before they resolved into a regally-dressed woman clad in red and black. She wore a crown on her head and her chin was high, just as it always was, as if she was waiting for him to drop to his knees in supplication. _It's going to take a bit more than a little theatrical magic to make _me _do that, dear_, he didn't say out loud. Instead, Rumplestiltskin lounged back against the far wall, crossing his ankles in the very picture of casual indifference.

"Cora," he said levelly, his voice low and smile sharp-edged.

"Rumple, dear. It's so good to see you." Her eyes went a little too wide, the pity a bit too feigned. "Though I do have to say that I find the conditions they keep you in quite _appalling_. It's such a pity you turned down my offer. Then you might not be here at all."

Barking out a high-pitched laugh, he bounced forward, and even Cora flinched a little to find herself face to face with a maniac Dark One. "Having problems with the curse already?" he taunted her.

Cora's eyes darkened. Like Rumplestiltskin, she was undoubtedly remembering the day he had handed her the Curse to End All Curses, smiling and laughing he listened to her talk of everlasting vengeance. He'd known Cora's penchant for extremes even then, so Rumplestiltskin had made her work for it, withholding the means for her revenge until Cora was well-nigh desperate, furious with him and ready to tear the world to pieces. But he couldn't have her casting the curse too soon, so Rumplestiltskin had still left out a few key things. After all, he needed her to come to him, and unlike the daughter whom he had _thought _would cast the curse, Cora had few scruples left to worry her.

"It isn't working," she admitted coldly. "Your spellwork must be flawed."

"Oh, is it now?" he countered, flinging his hand to the side a little more wildly than he intended. Perhaps he _was _going insane. "Or is it your _execution _of said spell?"

"You always insert a loophole. You would not otherwise have given me a curse requiring the heart of the thing I love most. You know I am heartless." Now Cora smiled, that little secretive smile that Rumplestiltskin had once loved so much. She knew that, of course. "You have said it often enough yourself."

"Well, if the shoe fits…"

Cora's eyes flashed; she never liked being refused, and refuse her he had. Without telling her his reasons. "Tell me what the loophole is."

"It requires a heart, dear. There's no avoiding that," Rumplestiltskin told her honestly. "Now, given your past actions, I would say that you should use your own heart, because it's plain what means the most to you—"

"Enough!" Magic flared, with purple lightning zeroing in on him and trying to make a roast out of Rumplestiltskin. He dodged, jumping aside and feeling the power sizzle in the air, barely missing him. His magic was no good in the cell given how well the fairies had done their work, and Rumplestiltskin didn't want to tip his hand by walking out now. But he hadn't antagonized Cora _too _much; he just needed her angry enough that she forgot whose heart would make a very good ingredient indeed. "I tire of your antics."

"I might say the same about you," he shot back. "You know who you love. A certain daughter, hmm?"

This time the power ripped out too fast for even the Dark One to avoid, slamming him against the back wall of the cell and holding him there for several moments. But even Cora could not keep that up for long; the fairy magic surrounding the cell was sapping her magic, too, so she had to let him go as he laughed. Rumplestiltskin hit the floor harder than he would like, but even as pain reverberated up his legs, he scented victory in the air.

"I will not kill my _daughter _for your foul curse. Come up with something else."

Still chuckling, Rumplestiltskin picked himself up. "For that, there's a price."

"Then tell me what you want," Cora replied.

"It's rather simple. In this new land, I want comfort. I want a _good_ life," he told her, knowing better than to try her patience and try to draw this out. No, he needed Cora on edge, not furious, and he already had her there. _Just angry enough. _"Riches. Power. The usual."

"Done," the Evil Queen replied without blinking an eye. She'd known poverty, after all, little though Queen Cora liked to admit that these days. She knew why Rumplestiltskin would desire such assurances, because she was one of two breathing people who knew enough of his past to understand.

Bouncing forward once more to bring his face close to hers, he cut her off before she could say more. "I'm not finished. There's more."

"There always is," Cora drawled.

"I want one more thing, in our new land," Rumplestiltskin murmured softly. "Should I ever come to you for any reason, you must heed my every request. You must do whatever I say. So long as I say 'Please'."

Cora studied him for a moment, turning the idea over in her mind. "Clever. You want me to insert that as a caveat in the curse, to give you a hold over me."

"I do prefer to have some assurances that my life will be what I desire, yes," he answered bluntly. There were other reasons, but what Cora didn't know would protect others.

"You do realize, that when I cast this curse, your memory will be as wiped as anyone else's. A clean slate, you said." Cora smiled, and there was something dangerous in that secretive smile, something Rumplestiltskin could not control. "You won't remember this deal at all."

"Oh, well, then what's the harm?" he countered as flippantly as he could.

"Very well," the Evil Queen drew herself up, looking him straight in the eye. "Tell me what heart I must use."

"The heart of the one you love most, of course." His own smile was mysterious, and Cora's rage was tangible as she pulled her magic back a hair's breath away from flattening him.

"Do not toy with me, Rumple!" she snapped.

"But I'm not." Now he used the more soothing tone, the one that always brought her back from the edge. "I understand that you hold a certain stableboy's heart."

"What of it?"

"They say that the hearts of two True Loves are shared…" Rumplestiltskin led her to the answer, pushing aside a twinge of regret. Regina would never forgive him if she learned his part in this, but she had made her choice a long time ago.

He didn't have to say more. Cora was more than capable of putting the pieces together herself; she was almost as good at exploiting loopholes as Rumplestiltskin. He had found that out years before, much to his own heartbreak. So Cora left, smug and victorious, ready to crush a heart that she _should _have crushed years earlier and create her everlasting vengeance. But it would serve his purposes well enough, Rumplestiltskin supposed, even if events were not turning out the way he had intended at all.

No, he had not wanted Cora—unpredictable, powerful, and heartless Cora—to cast his curse at all. He had wanted someone _with _a heart, someone who would feel the emptiness that came from embracing that darkness and shy away from it in the end. He had wanted _Regina_, of course, but Regina had gone and changed everything.

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><p><span><em>15 Years Before the Curse<em>

Regina had never felt so free. Two months after running away, she and Daniel had crossed three kingdoms and finally settled in a maritime kingdom ruled by a Dowager Queen for her young son. Queen Elena was well known for both her dislike of magic and her love of horses, which meant that Cora was unlikely to locate them and Daniel was able to find a job. His obvious touch with training horses quickly gained him a place in a nobleman's household, and if people looked at him strangely for having his wife as his assistant, the whispers were nothing Regina couldn't handle. She was free, she was happy, and she need not worry about her ambitious mother forcing her to marry a king who was twice her age.

Her only regret was that her father had not been able to be there for her wedding. It had been a simple affair one night when they'd stopped in Midas' kingdom, just the two of them with only a pair of witnesses who Daniel had befriended in the tavern the night before as guests. A friendly cleric had married them with a smile, and Regina had been in heaven ever since. Now she had been married to her True Love for almost a month, and although Daniel often said how he wished he could provide a more luxurious life for her, Regina did not care. She preferred hardships and happiness over wealth and misery.

"How was work?" she asked Daniel as he came home at the end of the day, giving him a smile and a kiss that promised more. Regina never would tire of the ability to love him openly and fully, to show everyone what the former stable boy meant to her. _Mother doesn't understand. If she did, she'd be happy for me._

"The Count's new stallion from Agrabah arrived today. He's a little wild, and doesn't seem to like men. Do you want to give him a try?"

"Do I? Of course!" Regina kissed him again, but then sobered quickly. "Perhaps if I'm training him, you'll be able to cook dinner. I fear I'm a failure."

The burned mess still smoldering on the stove was evidence of that; Cora had always told Regina that women of royal blood did not cook. Fortunately, Daniel was the oldest of three brothers, and his mother had taught him many useful skills.

"Don't call yourself that." Slipping around behind her, Daniel wrapped his arms around her and Regina leaned back into his embrace. "You are brilliant, bold, and beautiful. I don't care if you can't cook."

His compliments could still make her color a little, and Regina smiled bashfully. "You're too good to me."

"I'm sure you'll repay me somehow," he growled in her ear, and Regina giggled.

"I bet I can—" she started to say, only to be cut off by a pounding at their door.

_Knock. Knock. KNOCK!_

"Coming!" Freeing herself from Daniel, Regina made her way towards the door. She didn't have far to go; their one room apartment was rather tiny, for all it was in a prime location. Living over the town's bakery made for great smells, warmth on cold nights, and free bread from time to time—but not for a lot of space. She and Daniel didn't mind, since it let them save money for something better, and their nest egg was growing nicely.

Regina opened the door, blinking in surprise. "Alfonso," she said with a welcoming smile. "Why are you up so early?"

Alfonso was the night baker, the actual baker's younger brother and already a good friend. The burly baker lived in the other small apartment over the bakery while his brother owned a house further down the street, but Regina rarely saw him in daylight due to the hours he kept. Alfonso would usually still be sleeping right now, and he looked tired indeed—but also very worried. And out of breath.

"Can I come in?" he asked, chest heaving. Was that nerves?

"Of course." Regina stepped aside as Daniel approached, clearly having deemed the mess on the stove unsalvageable. She closed the door. "What's wrong?"

"I overheard Maria talking to a pair of clerics a few minutes ago," Alfonso replied, looking worriedly towards the open window and keeping his voice down. "They were talkin' about ye."

"About us?" Daniel echoed.

Alfonso shook his head. "No. About Regina. About how she's obviously better born than—sorry, Daniel—than you deserve. Maria thinks you stole her from someone."

"I _what_?" Daniel gaped as Regina exclaimed:

"That's ridiculous! Daniel is my husband, no matter what my background is, and he is _my _choice."

Maria was the baker's busybody second wife, the sister-in-law who hated Alfonso and her three stepchildren. She had never been happy that her kind-hearted husband had rented their spare apartment to Regina and Daniel instead of giving it to her own wastrel brother, and she disliked the couple despite their efforts to be nice to her. It was just like Maria to spread spiteful rumors with no basis in fact.

"I know that," Alfonso replied gruffly. "And even a fool can see how happy the two of ye are. But…"

"I'll talk to her," Regina decided. "I'm sure we can work this out."

Alfonso shook his head again. "That's why I'm here. There was another man with 'em. He looked military, sounded like he was from one of the northern kingdoms. He said they'd been looking for someone just like ye."

"What?" Shock startled the whisper out of Regina, and she felt her heart sink. She'd thought there were home free. She knew enough about magic to know that it wasn't infallible, and that if they got far enough away quickly enough, even her mother's spells would not be able to find her. But _this_…

"Ye need to go," Alfonso told them with a strained smile. "I dun know what ye're hiding from, but if ye want to stay away from it, ye need to run."

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><p><span><em>October 22, 2013<em>

"But why would he run away?"

Regina sank onto the bed as the whisper tore out of her, trying valiantly not to cry. Her mother had been less than helpful when she'd called her—oh, Cora had promised to send Graham out beyond the town line and call local bus companies, but Regina knew in her heart that it was too late. Whatever had happened, Graham had found no evidence of foul play. The Sherriff had been so gentle when he'd asked her if it was possible that Henry had just run off on his own, and although Regina had snapped at her old friend that _of course _Henry wouldn't do such a thing, doubt started gnawing at her now that Graham was gone.

"I don't know," her husband replied gently, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her.

Leaning into his familiar embrace, Regina closed her eyes on tears, but they started trickling down her face, anyway. Their marriage had been so troubled once, but bringing Henry into their lives had brought them so much closer. Even when they had their differences, Henry was the glue that held them together and made them into a family. He was the best thing that had ever happened to either of them, and even when Henry was difficult, he was _their_ son.

"He _was _a little obsessed with finding his birth mother…" he trailed off after a moment, and then shrugged. "Maybe Graham's right. Maybe he went to find her."

"He should have just _asked _us. One of us would have taken him anywhere," Regina whispered against his chest, feeling utterly helpless. "Now Mother is involved, and you know she's going to demand we punish him."

"He's our son, Regina, not hers," her husband replied with uncharacteristic firmness. "What we do with him is up to us. Though I can't say that I'm against grounding him for the next year or two."

The unexpected humor startled a watery laugh out of her. Regina swallowed. "Do you think he'll come back, then?"

"Or we'll find him. We'll always find him. That's what family does."

Nodding, Regina pulled herself upright. She'd had a good cry; now it was time to get to work finding her son. Her smile felt surprisingly natural as she stood, holding a hand out to her husband.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, David," she said honestly.

He smiled. "Probably take over Storybrooke out of boredom."

That drew another laugh out of her, and Regina squeezed his fingers. "Probably," she agreed. "Now let's go find our son."

_Knock. Knock!_

Then the unmistakable sound of the door opening overrode the knocking, and a familiar voice called out: "Mom? Dad? I'm home."

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><p>Mary Margaret Blanchard sighed, but looking away from the stack of bills didn't make them go away. Or even shrink. She knew she had enough money to pay her rent this month, but <em>how <em>was she going to pay the next loan installment? Payment was due in six days, and Mr. Gold was not exactly known for his compassion. How her late father had managed to secure a loan from the scrooge of a pawnbroker Mary Margaret would never know, but Leonard Blanchard had blown it all on gambling instead of investing in the publishing company he had _supposedly _been opening. Even worse, he'd dragged her good-for-nothing husband down with him. Not that Daniel had ever been much of a catch. Mary Margaret's father had pushed them into marrying after a youthful indiscretion resulted in an unexpected pregnancy, but now both her husband and unborn daughter were dead. Mary Margaret had lost them both within a year of her beloved father's death, which had sent her into her own downward spiral of drinking and gambling.

She had her life back on track, now—she'd been sober for two years and was teaching elementary school again—but recovering from alcoholism didn't equate to recovering from her debts. Or her father's. She should never have co-signed those loans, but it was a little late for regrets.

An insistent ringing interrupted her musings, and Mary Margaret left the table covered in bills to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mary Margaret," a familiar voice said from the other end, making her heart sink. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Jefferson. I thought I asked you to stop calling me."

"I know you love to hear from me, doll."

"I just…I don't have time for this right now." She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but Mary Margaret didn't like being that mean to anyone.

Dating the well-to-do manager of Modern Fashions had been one of the worst mistakes of Mary Margaret's life. He'd seemed like such a gentleman, and he'd been there just when she'd been emerging from the throes of addiction and ready to life a little. Everything had been fine, even fun, until he wanted her to quit her job and cater to his odd eccentricities full time, and Mary Margaret had not been prepared to go so far so soon. Having daily tea parties was well and good when you had a different place to go home to, but she wasn't sure she wanted to live like that. Besides, she'd jumped—or been shoved—into a miserable marriage once. So, in a rare act of courage, she had put her foot down and broken up with him.

Now he was stalking her, turning up wherever she was. She saw him peeking through windows while she was teaching, bumped into him constantly at the grocery store, and even caught him following her to the library. It was really starting to make her afraid. Jefferson had a temper, ad although he'd only hit her a handful of times, she wasn't sure he'd show such restraint now that she'd left him.

"Oh, just let me come over. You know you want to see me," he replied.

"Actually, um, I'm kind of busy tonight." She wished her hand wasn't shaking, but at least he couldn't see her.

"Tomorrow, then."

"I have to grade papers." The words came out in a rush. She _hated _telling him no. It had never gone well in the past.

Jefferson laughed merrily. "That doesn't sound like real fun, doll."

"I have a name," Mary Margaret objected weakly.

"Of course you do, Mary Margaret. I just call you doll because I like you," was the flippant answer. "Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at seven. No excuses, okay?"

Her resistance crumbled. At least it would be nice to have a meal she didn't have to pay for. "Okay," Mary Margaret gave in. "I'll be…ready."

* * *

><p>"I have to go home, Tony," Lacey told her towering companion. She refused to think of him as her boyfriend, even though it felt like half the town was still pushing for her to marry Anthony Rose. But she didn't <em>feel <em>much of anything for Tony, and hadn't since they'd dated in high school. Tony was terrible with kids and had the manners of a star hockey player—which he wasn't. All in all, he drove Lacey French insane, and she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life chained to him.

"We just got here, Lace."

She rolled her eyes. "We got here three hours ago, and I have to work in the morning."

He snorted. "How hard is it to run a library, anyway?"

"It requires a certain amount of functioning intelligence," she retorted pointedly, finishing off her chardonnay and standing.

"C'mon," Tony wheedled, turning on his barstool to look at her pleadingly as he completely missed the jibe Lacey had thrown his way. "The place is hopping!"

Actually, the Rabbit Hole was doing anything _but _hopping. It was nearly eleven, and tonight clearly was a slow night. Lacey didn't seem to be the only one uninterested in partying this evening; the bar was halfway to empty and getting their fast. Even Deputy Sherriff Keith Law had already left, although not without leering at Lacey in a hungry way that made her skin crawl. Dealing with Keith was one of the few times she was grateful for Tony—at least he chased the creep off. Tony was a bore, an absolute meathead who had taken one too many hockey sticks to the head in high school, but he was much more of a gentleman than the deputy was.

"I've got to go." Lacey leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Tony was her friend, even if she felt nothing romantic towards him. "I'll see you later."

"Fine," Tony grumbled, and Lacey hurried out the door before he could decide that buying her dinner gave him an open invitation to her apartment over the library.

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><p>Errol Forrester and Meleville Anzo had been roommates for as long as either could remember, back from before Errol married his late wife Olivia. They'd been friends for that long, too; in fact, they'd known one another for so long that they often felt like they'd lived entire lives together already. After Olivia had died giving birth to Jamie, Mel had moved back into the old apartment to help Errol look after his three year old son. They had always been like brothers, so it made perfect sense for his best friend to move in and help once Errol decided that he wasn't interested in marrying again. Besides, they still worked together at Storybrooke's Fire Department, and it simplified things when the captain and the senior lieutenant shared the same phone number.<p>

Unfortunately, it also meant that they usually had to leave at the same time, even when it was nine o'clock at night and Jamie was already in bed.

"Mel!" Errol shouted up the stairs, slamming the phone down. "Fire at Widow Morton's!"

"Comin' down!" The booming voice came from inside the shower, and Errol heard his big friend turning off the water and bolting out of the shower. Of course, Mel tripped on the shower curtain and fell to the floor, and a muffled swear echoed down the stairs as Errol headed for the door.

"I'll be next door! Get dressed, you big lug!"

Bolting out the door, Errol headed right, banging on the door of apartment 4C. It took a few moments—Ms. Wells liked to go to bed earlier than her younger neighbors—but soon enough, Jane Wells opened the door. She was a gray haired, matronly looking woman, with a kind ready and a willingness to help that Errol feared he too often took advantage of.

"Called out?" she asked by way of greeting.

"How in the world did you guess?" he replied with a lopsided smile. "Do you mind?"

"Of course I don't," Snow White's old nurse (if only she knew) told him. "I'll be right there."

"You're the best, Ms. Wells!" Robin Hood (in another life) replied, pecking her on the cheek before he rushed back over to his own apartment.

By then his much-larger best friend had managed to throw clothes on and was thumping his way down the stairs. It was a miracle that Jamie slept through living with the two of them, but the lad really did have a gift for sleeping soundly. Given the number of phone calls or radio reports they received, Errol often wondered if it would be better to leave Jamie with his wonderful neighbor, but Jane Wells worked as the mayor's maid during the day and besides, Jamie was his son.

But there was no time for that as the two firefighters hurried down the stairs, sprinting for the fire house that was just two doors down. Of course, the major fire turned out to be just a kitchen fire, and old Widow Morton had managed to overreact yet _again _and call in a "massive house fire" that was nothing of the sort. Her tiny little oven fire certainly hadn't needed an entire team of fire fighters to put it out, so Errol and Mel elected to walk home and send the engine back to the station. It was a nice night, after all, unseasonably warm for October, and they'd still be home before ten.

"Someone get a new car?" Mel wondered as they walked by the Nolans' house, pointing at a battered yellow bug.

"Doesn't look that new," Errol shrugged, and thought nothing more of it.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you so much for reading, and please do let me know what you think! For anyone confused on the characters who have cursed names (but didn't in the show), there's a cheat sheet located under my other stories._

_Next up: Chapter Two: "Love is Weakness", in which Regina meets the Savior and Gold runs into Cora. Back in the past, Regina and Daniel are caught by Cora, and then Snow and Regina meet once more_


	2. Chapter 2: Love is Weakness

_**Chapter Two—"Love is Weakness"**_

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><p><span><em>October 23, 2011<em>

"Henry!" Regina leapt forward and wrapped her arms around her son, pulling him in close and holding on tight. Just a few hours ago, she'd been worried that she'd never see her darling boy again, so right now, Regina could forgive anything just because Henry was home.

"Thank you so much for bringing him back," David spoke up from her side, holding his hand out to the blonde woman who stood just inside the doorway, her hands stuffed uncomfortably in her pockets and looking terribly out of place.

"Hey, you're his parents. It's the least I could do," she replied, shifting uneasily. But at least she accepted David's hand to shake.

"Yes, thank you," Regina straightened enough to say, forcing herself to let go of Henry. "You've given me back my life."

"Mom," Henry said in an undertone, looking embarrassed.

"Don't get to excited, munchkin. You're definitely grounded," David put in, and Henry sighed theatrically.

"I'm Emma Swan," the blonde introduced herself, and Regina's world rocked on its axis. _Emma, _she remembered a voice telling her. _Remember that name. Seal it in your mind and _remember _that name._

Memories crashed in: riding horses, learning magic, arguing with her mother, fighting alongside her sister—Regina staggered under the strain, swaying woozily. The human brain, even one of a sorceress, wasn't quite equipped to handle a sudden influx of a _second _set of memories, a second life. Her _real _life. She was still Regina—she supposed she should thank her mother for allowing her to keep her name when no one else got to—and she was married to…

"Excuse me," Regina managed to say as she bolted from the room, her stomach rolling wildly and barely noticing as David introduced himself to his daughter.

* * *

><p><span><em>15 Years Before the Curse:<em>

They'd gathered everything that they could and run that very night, slipping out of town under the cover of darkness and heading east. Regina toyed with the idea of retracing their old route backwards and trying to throw off their followers that way, but in the end they had opted to put more distance between themselves and their onetime home. After a week of running, that method seemed to have worked. No one bothered to look their way for more than a moment as they rode into the next town, and Regina and Daniel exchanged a silent look. Regina nodded, and they both dismounted. She took the horses towards a public stable while her husband headed into a nearby inn.

Hopefully, Daniel would be able to secure a room without depleting too much of their savings, Regina reflected as she settled both horses into stalls and started untacking them. A stable boy offered to help, but she waved him away. They didn't have money to spare on a tip, and Regina was perfectly capable on her own. Money troubles aside, the mere thought of a hot meal was almost enough to make her drool, and sleeping in a bed would be sheer paradise. They hadn't dared stop for long during the last week, and had spent the eight consecutive days sleeping in the forest. Regina was prepared to face plenty of hardships in the name of love, but being prepared to do so didn't mean she enjoyed it. She was ready for something nicer.

"You look a fright, darling," a familiar voice said, startling Regina into dropping the saddle she'd just pulled off her chestnut gelding.

"Mother!"

In her worst nightmares, Cora always looked just like this: impeccably put together without even a hair out of place, gliding over the dirt floor like her expensive shoes never even touched the ground. Regina had not seen her mother in almost two and a half months, and she had hoped to be free of her forever. She loved her mother, but Cora had forced her to choose this life, and Regina would not look ashamed. Even if she knew she looked nothing like the beautiful and refined daughter Cora had raised her to be, dressed in worn and stained clothes she had bought from a peasant three weeks earlier.

"Regina." Cora stepped forward to embrace her before Regina could pull away. "I've been so worried for you."

"I'm fine, Mama." She returned the hug; Regina _did _miss home. She just wanted freedom more.

"Of course you are. You're my daughter, and you're strong." Cora pulled back to smile at her, and a chill ran down Regina's spine. She _knew _that look, and it never meant good things.

"I'm not going back," she said quickly. Forcefully. "You can't make me marry King Leopold. Daniel and I are already married."

"Oh, you silly girl," her mother laughed, her hands tightening on Regina's arms painfully. "Leopold doesn't want you anymore. You're tarnished goods."

Relief made her go a little limp despite the tight grip on her arms and her mother's caustic tone. "Good."

"Regina!"

Hearing Daniel's cry made Regina twist around, but she couldn't go very far with the way her mother still gripped her arms. Two guards in livery Regina didn't recognize held her husband, dragging him into the stable while he fought their hold. Regina swung back to glare at her mother.

"Let him go!"

"Now, why would I do that?" Cora purred, and then turned to the guards. "Bring him here."

"Daniel, I'm sorry," Regina whispered as the guards complied. Whatever her mother wanted, it would not be good.

Her True Love smiled. "Don't be. I love you."

"And I love you!"

"How cute," Cora interjected drily, letting Regina go…only to plunge her hand straight into Daniel's chest.

"_No!_" Regina lunged for her mother, but slammed into an invisible wall, bouncing off and having to catch her balance. Meanwhile, Cora withdrew her hand, now holding Daniel's still-beating heart. Daniel and Regina both stared at it in shock. How could Daniel be alive without his heart? What kind of horrible magic was this? "Mother, please!"

"Be silent, darling, and listen carefully," was the cold reply. "Because you're going to do exactly as I say if you want your dear Daniel to live."

"I'll do whatever you want," Regina vowed, her eyes flicking to Daniel. He still looked stricken, numb, too horrified to speak. But she would do anything to save him. Anything at all. "Just don't hurt him."

Cora smiled. "You will return home with me," she said bluntly. "You will resume your proper place as my daughter, and you will speak of this so-called marriage to no one."

"Our marriage is legal!" Daniel burst in. "A cleric—"

That made Cora snort. "It's amazing what elastic memories the members of the Holy Order have when properly compensated."

"You can't do that!" Regina objected.

"I already have," was the serene response. "Now, as I was saying: you will return home, and conduct yourself accordingly. Your marriage does not exist. _My _marriage will take place in three months, and you _will _attend with a happy smile on your face."

"Your…marriage?" Shock made it hard to get the words out. "But Daddy…"

"Oh, you didn't hear. Your father tragically died searching for you right after you disappeared. It was a terrible accident, but he was determined to bring your _kidnapper _to justice."

Regina felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Her father was _dead_? But he had always been there for her. Her father had been the one person whose love she was always certain of, the one who had encouraged her to follow her heart and be herself. He had taught her to ride, had taken her hunting, had introduced her to Daniel and never once argued when they spent time together. His arms had been the ones that held her when she had nightmares, and Regina had always known that he was the best father in the entire world. And now he was _gone_? Her whisper was ragged. "How?"

"A riding accident, of course."

"You did this!" Rage like she had never known before tore the words out of her, but Regina knew she was right, and her mother's smug smile did nothing to disabuse her of the notion. She moved forward again, furious and needing to hurt someone, but Cora's magic slammed into her once more and held her fast, tearing her feet off the ground. Regina hung there helplessly, staring at her mother's outstretched hand and hating magic more than ever. Once she'd calmed down a little, Cora chided her:

"Behave yourself, dear. You wouldn't want to get your dear kidnapper hurt."

"He didn't kidnap me!"

"Of course he didn't. But you'll never tell anyone that if you want him to live."

There was no way out. Nothing she could do. Her mother _would _kill Daniel if Regina misbehaved, and all she could do was throw her _husband_—he would always be that, no matter what Cora said—a helpless look and plead for his forgiveness. Daniel, bless his good soul, nodded to her, and she could read the silent look on his face. _Do what you have to do. We'll find a way out of this. Together._

"Of course," she whispered, and was glad when her feet touched the ground. Her mother would expect an apology, and maybe if Regina could play the dutiful daughter long enough, she could figure out a way to help Daniel. "I'm sorry."

"Much better." Cora smiled. "Do you understand what you will do?"

"I will behave myself and come to your wedding. And smile. And tell no one Daniel and I are married," Regina recited mechanically. But she had to know, even though she was pretty sure she had already guessed. "Who are you marrying?"

"King Leopold, of course. He is desperate for a mother for his dear daughter Snow, and his old love for me has been reawakened." There was that smug and calculating look that Regina hated so much, and she didn't want to ask what 'old love' her mother was talking about. But then Cora's eyes went hard, and she looked at Regina coldly. "I will be Queen, and nothing, not insolent children nor disposable stable boys, will stand in my way. Do you understand?"

What else could she say to that? "Yes, Mother," Regina whispered.

She would save Daniel. Somehow. She would save him.

* * *

><p>Gold locked up the shop late that night; he had been conducting inventory and hadn't precisely lost track of time so much as he simply did not care what time it was. He had intended to finish the inventory the next night, but given how he knew that the only person whom he cared to spend time with was busy that evening, remaining in the pawnshop was no loss. So, when he finished the inventory around eight, he found another several reasons to stick around; reorganizing his records, cleaning an old lamp, and then finally reading a bit of a book until his eyes were tired and he decided to head home. He'd skipped dinner again, but that really wasn't anything new.<p>

Stepping outside into the crisp night air, Gold turned to lock the door without bothering to look down the street. Unfortunately, when he _did _turn away from the shop, the one person on the street was the last person he wanted to see at all.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," she said, smiling a too-sweet smile that was designed to be seen right through.

"Madam Mayor," he greeted her coldly.

"Working late, are we?" Cora cooed.

"No more than usual."

Cora cocked her head at him, perfectly coifed in her business suit and still smiling that secretive smile. "And you forgot to eat dinner, didn't you? You always do when you're working too hard. You poor thing."

"I'm not looking for your pity, dearie," he snapped, and turned away, heading for the black Cadillac waiting in the lot beside the shop. For once, Cora didn't move to step in his way, and she didn't even object. She actually let him get a half-dozen limping steps before saying:

"Tonight, dear."

Gold stopped mid-stride, almost tripping as some invisible force seized a hold of him. For a moment, breathing was almost impossible. Electricity seemed to sizzle down his spine, and Gold found himself utterly unable to walk away. This had happened before, he knew, but it never made any sense. He never understood _why_, and that fact made him coldly furious as he turned to glare at Cora.

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't eaten dinner," she said, stepping forward to put a hand on his arm; it made Gold's skin crawl. "Come share it with me."

* * *

><p>After a few minutes vomiting in the bathroom, Regina washed her mouth out and then headed back into the living room, where she found David and Henry entertaining their unexpected guest. Henry, as usual, clutched his favorite book—<em>The book. The curse. Oh, my God.<em> Regina almost fled again, but she steeled herself and pasted a smile on her face, striding into the room like nothing was wrong. There was so much to think about, so many memories to sort through, and so much to do, but none of that mattered right now. Henry had brought the Savior here…because the Savior was Henry's mother.

"Regina," David Nolan, Prince Charming, her bloody _husband _here in Storybrooke, turned to her with a smile. "Emma is Henry's birth mother."

Apparently they'd talked a bit while Regina Nolan had been busy being swallowed by Princess Regina, because David Nolan would never have figured that out on his own, and Regina didn't _think _Henry had said so before she'd rushed off. It was hard to remember; the first few moments after meeting Emma were a blur. Still, she nodded, lowering herself carefully onto the couch next to Henry. "I'd guessed as much."

Henry beamed at her, and David smiled blandly. He really had been turned into the perfect husband, hadn't he? Happy to be a stay at home dad, never one to criticize her, and always supportive of her career. He was a bit indecisive and seemed to want Regina to make the decisions for him, but that was what Mother would have wanted, wasn't it? _She created her perfect little world, with me married to the prince she always wanted._ It took all of Regina's self-control to keep smiling. To look at the wide-eyed blonde girl who was her _niece —_and not much younger than her!—and not say something that Emma would not understand. Or not point out that David was her father, and how messed up was it that Henry's adopted father was also his grandfather?

"So, if you don't mind my asking," Regina said carefully, mindful of the still-spooked look on Emma's face, "I thought you didn't want any contact with Henry? When we adopted him, the agency told us that the records were sealed and we would never hear from you."

"I found her on the internet," Henry volunteered when Emma floundered, obviously not wanting to admit in front of a ten year old that she hadn't wanted him. A surge of possessive satisfaction reared up in Regina—Henry was _her _son, not Emma's, and she wasn't giving him up no matter what—but she pushed it down. "I might have, um, borrowed Dad's credit card."

"Henry!" David chided him, but as usual, David wasn't terribly assertive. Cora had made sure he wouldn't be, hadn't she?

"You're definitely grounded," she told her son, accustomed to being the parent who had to put her foot down.

"But Mom, it was for a good cause!"

"That doesn't matter," Regina replied sternly. "You should have asked."

A ten year old pout: "You would have said no."

"You never know until you try, now, do you?"

"You would have said no! You always do!" Suddenly, Henry was on his feet and bolting up the stairs. The sudden tantrum wasn't terribly surprising; Regina could tell when her child was exhausted, which he was, and Henry did have a bit of a point. How many times had he tried to convince both his parents that his fairytale book portrayed the actual people who lived in Storybrooke, only to have his mother tell him that he was imagining things? Regina felt horrible for that now, but before she'd known who she was, the Regina Mills Nolan who the curse had created certainly wasn't the type to believe in fairytales.

"Is he okay?" Emma asked worriedly, glancing up the stairs.

"He'll be fine," David said in that soothing voice that _so _didn't belong to Charming. "He's ten, and he's tired. I'll go check on him."

David rose to do just that, and Regina almost asked him not to leave her alone with this strange woman who was also his child. But David wouldn't understand, so she kept her mouth shut and looked back at Emma. "So…do I need to be worried about Henry hunting his father down?"

"Nope." Wide eyes turned decisive on that one, and Regina felt a shameful flush of relief. "He doesn't even know."

"That's good. I take it that you…were surprised by this? And I'm sorry, by the way, that he dragged you out of your life. If Henry hadn't run off on his own, we could have made this a lot easier on everyone."

"Kid's having a rough time. I get it. Happens."

_You have no idea. He's the only child growing up in this entire town, _Regina realized, and pasted on another smile. "Yes. It does."

"You know…maybe it's none of my business, but the whole way here from Boston, Henry kept going on about how this entire town is full of cartoon characters from that book," Emma said in a rush. "You know. His dad is Prince Charming, his shrink is Jiminy Cricket…"

"Right. That." Regina really needed to take a closer look at that book. What did it say about her? She knew she'd not always been the best person; her mother had given her very little choice. But what did the book tell _Henry _she had been in the Enchanted Forest? "It's uh, complicated."

"Sounds like. Look, he's your kid, and I'd better be going."

_When she comes, things will change. Don't let her leave!_ Damn him, the bastard had probably been right. Pre-curse Regina had never expected to adopt a son who turned out to be her step great-nephew, but here she was, and here Emma was. Their only hope of escaping her mother laid in making Snow's apparently hard-edged daughter believe. And stay. First, Emma had to stay.

"It's late," Regina heard herself say. "Why don't you stay the night, and get a fresh start in the morning?"

"I couldn't—"

"Nonsense," she cut her off. "We have a spare room, and it's no trouble. And besides, Henry will never forgive either of us if you leave now."

"I…all right. Sure. Thank you," Emma said a little awkwardly, and Regina tried to give her a reassuring smile.

_This is going to take a lot of work._

* * *

><p><span><em>15 Years Before the Curse:<em>

"I always wanted a sister," Snow told her as Regina sat down next to the dark-haired princess on the gigantic bed.

Despite herself, Regina smiled; it wasn't her soon to be ten year old stepsister's fault that Cora had found her. No, the cleric who had married her and Daniel had apparently sold _that _secret, which wound up with Daniel locked deep in a dungeon that no one but her mother could reach. Cora had promised that Regina would be able to see her husband if she behaved herself, but after two weeks back at home, Cora had yet to let her. But that wasn't Snow's fault. Snow had kept her secret and allowed Regina to run away with Daniel, and Snow seemed to understand how badly hurt Regina was.

"Me, too," she admitted, surprising herself. There were seven years between them—almost eight, as Regina would be eighteen in a few months' time—but she'd felt a bond with Snow when she rescued her from her runaway horse.

_A runaway horse that was obviously Mother's fault. Just like Daddy's death was._ Regina still felt a pang of pain every time she thought of her father; she went to visit his grave almost every day, but it didn't help. She missed him so terribly, and no matter how many lectures she endured from her mother on the subject, she was _not _going to see King Leopold as her father. He seemed like a kind enough man—and had already decreed that Regina would be known as a princess by courtesy, as his future stepdaughter—but he wasn't her father. She'd _had _a father, who was now gone because he stood in the way of her mother's dreadful ambition.

But now she also had a stepsister, someone to talk to, and maybe, someone who would make her feel like she was not so dreadfully alone.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Daniel," Snow said quietly, looking at Regina with big eyes. "He seemed so nice."

"He's not dead," Regina whispered, barely daring to say the words out loud. The official story was that Daniel had kidnapped her, defiled her, and then Cora's men had rescued her. Daniel had supposedly died in the struggle, and Regina knew that if she ever came out and said otherwise, Cora _would _kill him. But Snow had kept one secret of hers already, and if Regina didn't share her pain with someone, she would burst. "Mother is keeping him to make sure I behave myself."

"That's horrible!"

"You can't tell anyone. Please. She'll only kill him if people know," she pleaded.

"I won't," Snow vowed. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks." Regina hugged her soon to be sister, wanting to cry and refusing to let herself. She'd cried enough already, both for her father and for Daniel. The only way she was going to survive was to face the future with her head held high, and try to find some way to rescue her True Love before it was too late. Until then, however, she had to do what she'd promised her mother she'd do, and be the perfectly behaved princess.

"That's what sisters do. They stick together," Snow said, her smile innocent and pure. Still, it managed to tug on Regina's broken heart. At least she wasn't alone. Regina wasn't sure how she was going to face the future, but at least Snow gave her someone to face it with.

"And we will," she agreed. "We'll look after one another, right?

"Definitely."

* * *

><p>"Thanks, Ashley," Lacey said to the pregnant girl as she handed her a pair of twenties. Ashley Boyd was chronically in need of money, and even though Lacey wasn't terribly well off herself, her job as the town librarian still paid better than Ashley's maid job at Granny's.<p>

"It's good practice," Ashley replied with a shrug and a smile, gesturing at her stomach. "Besides, Renee was an angel. Ate her dinner like a champ and went right to sleep. I only hope mine is so well behaved for whoever adopts her or him."

"It'll take a few years, I promise," Lacey replied with a crooked smile. She couldn't imagine having given up her child, but it _was _Ashley's choice.

"Well, I guess I'll never be bothered by it," the other girl said with a casual shrug that Lacey knew was forced. "Good night."

"'Night, Ash."

Closing the door, Lacey leaned against it with a sigh. She and Ashley had never really been close, but lately they'd become better friends. After all, Lacey knew what it was like to be a single mother-to-be, though at least Ashley knew who her child's father was. Lacey had been all but ostracized in the town for refusing to volunteer that information, but the truth was, she didn't know. All she remembered was some very drunken nights where she had made some huge mistakes, and found herself left with _someone's_ legacy in her belly. Despite Doctor Whale's best efforts, she'd refused to get a paternity test done, too; Renee was _her _daughter and no one else's. The most common theory in Storybrooke was that Renee was Tony Rose's daughter, but Lacey had never been able to see any traits they shared, and besides which, Renee absolutely hated Tony. Her daughter had always been a great judge of character, though, which was one of the many reasons why Lacey stayed single.

Her father never had accepted that, of course, which meant they spoke very rarely, except when he was trying to push her into marrying Tony for 'her own good'. Moe French refused to help Lacey pay for anything, including the high medical bills for Renee's care when she'd gotten pneumonia the year before; he seemed convinced that if he didn't talk to his 'loose' daughter, he could set her morals straight. But Lacey had managed, working an extra job in addition to the one at the library, and she'd gotten Renee healthy once more without her father's help. Still, the fact that Moe refused to even visit his granddaughter broke her heart a little bit every time.

Thinking of her daughter made Lacey need to check on her, so she crept back into the bedroom to make sure Renee really was still sleeping. She was curled up in her little yellow sleeper, cuddling her favorite stuffed crocodile, with curly brown hair obscuring her face. What Lacey could see of her expression was peaceful, and when Renee woke up, she knew her little girl would look at her with warm brown eyes that always reminded Lacey of someone she couldn't quite remember. Renee was a usually a cheerful child; she had tantrums sometimes, like any three year old did, but overall, she was a dream to raise. In fact, being her mother was easier than Lacey would have ever expected, particularly when she was doing it on her own in a small one room apartment over the library.

Leaning over to brush a quick kiss against her daughter's forehead, Lacey then quickly turned to changing into her own nightclothes. Something in her heart fluttered every time she saw her little girl, and Lacey didn't care what people thought. Her life was her own, and she was going to live it to the fullest.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you to all the lovely folks who reviewed the first chapter! I'm floored by the response to this story. Obviously, this chapter starts showing you how different Cora's Storybrooke is from the one in the show, with more differences to follow. _

_Additionally, for anyone who is worried, this story is not Regina/Charming. Cora put them together under the curse. They don't want to be married to one another at all - Charming is actually married to Snow, he just doesn't remember it._

_Next up: Chapter Three: "A World Unexpected", where time starts moving, Regina faces off with her mother, and Rumplestiltskin wakes up (at the most inopportune time). _


	3. Chapter 3: A World Unexpected

_**Chapter Three—"A World Unexpected"**_

* * *

><p>Gold's cell phone rang as they were finishing up dessert. Cora hadn't cooked, of course, so the meal was delicious, little though Gold had any desire to share it with her. Storybrooke's mayor was very much the queen in her own little domain, and even pretend queens didn't cook. No, Cora Mills had a regular maid in Ms. Wells and an on-call cook who lived in a small guest house out back, which meant her mansion was always immaculate and the meals always exactly what she wanted. Gold found himself sharing those meals with depressing frequency, even though he never really <em>wanted <em>to. Cora seemed to have some sort of hold over him that he could never quite define, even though letting her touch him made his skin crawl.

"Excuse me," he said politely, rising with the help of his cane. Gold headed for the window while he fished his phone out; not too many people had his cell number, and if one of them was calling him this late at night, it was undoubtedly important. Doubly so if it was Dove, who was more than capable of solving most problems on his own.

But he happened to glance at the phone number before answering, and although it was one Gold recognized, he couldn't for the life of him imagine why Cora's daughter would be calling him at this hour. Particularly when he was _here._ Annoyance mixed with his already smoldering temper to make his voice sharp when he answered:

"I'm a little busy, dear. What do you want?"

"Good to hear your voice, too, Gold," Regina snapped on the other end of the line, but she sounded a little…off. Perhaps she was simply tired.

"Why are you calling me?"

"I had a visitor this evening," the mayor's daughter replied levelly. "By the name of Emma Swan."

"Did you indeed?" Gold asked automatically.

The world rocked under Rumplestiltskin's feet, and he had to lean heavily on his cane to keep from showing it. He had been prepared for this day—prepared for the onrushing memories, the sudden sense of self, the burst of knowledge filling his mind. But that had been twenty-eight years ago, and Rumplestiltskin had been very different then. Now it was a human mind filled with inhuman thoughts, with magic, with fury, with the soft voice of a deadly curse whispering in the back of his mind. In the span of a second, Mr. Gold was pushed into an unused corner of that very vast mind and Rumplestiltskin emerged, all teeth and claws and razor sharp wits. He never so much as twitched; Gold's iron self-control helped there, for Rumplestiltskin had no problem using his cursed self where he proved useful. Later, he would have to dig into that alter-ego, but at the moment, he had other problems to deal with.

_Problems. _What a mild word to describe his current situation.

"You _do _know what I'm saying, don't you?" Regina's voice interrupted his musings, sounding angry and desperate at the same time.

"Of course I do," he snapped. "But I'm a bit occupied at the moment."

That took a moment to sink in, and then she asked: "Are you at my mother's?"

Clearly, Regina was in full ownership of her memories as well, and had probably had a bit longer to swallow them than he currently possessed, because she sounded a little bit concerned. He snorted. "Right in one. I will talk to you tomorrow."

Rumplestiltskin—Gold, he supposed—hung up the phone before Regina could say anything else. He didn't want her pity, and he certainly didn't want to be _here_. Already the knowledge of what was happening had sunk in: he had insisted that Cora insert a caveat ("Please") in the curse for him, and clearly she had done the same for herself as well. Twice over, if he recalled correctly, and that realization set off a sinking feeling in his stomach. The Dark One lurking inside him wanted to snarl, wanted to rip the Evil Queen's lungs out and make her eat them. But he could not. Firstly, doing so would be, at a minimum, difficult without magic. Secondly, any attempt to harm Cora would undoubtedly tell her that Rumplestiltskin had indeed woken up, and her knowing this early had no place in any of his plans.

So. The Savior had arrived, and Gold had been pushed aside, having served his purpose. But now he would have to serve another purpose, to be a shield to hide behind whilst Rumplestiltskin went to work moving the proper pawns into place, making sure the curse was broken so that he could find his son. For now, that meant Rumplestiltskin would have to play along with this travesty, little though he wanted to. Even though he knew what that meant, and _not _letting his body turn into a ball of tension was hard. _Gold didn't like her either, _he realized dispassionately, making his way back to the table. _At least my cursed self possessed some modicum of taste. That should make this easier._

"Who was that?" Cora asked as he slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed back for the table.

"No one important," Rumplestiltskin answered dismissively. "Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow."

Cora didn't care about Gold's daily routine, he knew. She allowed him power in the town because _she_ had power over _him_, and whatever matter had demanded his attention, however briefly, was just a minor annoyance for Cora. A distraction. _I can use that,_ Rumplestiltskin thought, desperately trying to distract himself from the knowledge of what that "Tonight, dear," from earlier meant. Cora didn't want to control his life, fortunately; she reserved that overbearing domination for her daughter's daily life, not his. That freedom would be useful when it came time to break the curse—necessary, actually. Cora was too smart to let it happen easily, and he and Regina had always known that they would have to shield the Savior as best they could if they wanted the curse to be broken at all. After all, Regina knew from personal experience just how vicious Cora could be.

And so did Gold, actually, and it was all Rumplestiltskin could do to keep himself from shuddering at that thought.

"I'm glad to hear it," Cora purred. "Don't sit down. Let's go upstairs."

Upstairs. Upstairs was better than downstairs, because Cora's bag of nastier tricks lived downstairs. Upstairs usually meant she just wanted sex, and even if _that _was preferable to the alternative, it still made Rumplestiltskin's stomach roll. Looking at her smile made his eyes narrow, and Rumplestiltskin thanked his lucky stars that Gold hadn't liked this arrangement, either. Of course, Gold hadn't known about the magic that forced him to join her when he heard those particular words, but he'd known _something _made him keep coming back to her. Gold had thought it was just an unhealthy habit. Gold had been wrong.

Cora leaned forward to kiss him when he dug his heels in, her hands flat against his chest. "Don't be difficult," she murmured. "Now, if you please."

That magic hit hard, and almost made his feet start moving on his own. But Gold had been prone to resisting, too, even if Rumplestiltskin knew it was pointless. "And if I want to be difficult?" he asked tightly.

"Then we'll go downstairs," was the blunt reply.

"There's no need for that." He didn't like the way sudden fear made him shiver, but Cora clearly did; she licked her lips.

"Oh, but I think there is. You're in a mood tonight, aren't you?" The fingers of her left hand touched his face, feather light, while her right hand moved downwards, undoing his belt.

"Long day at the shop," Rumplestiltskin tried to deflect her, tensing.

"Hmm. What a pity. Downstairs it is."

"Cora—"

"_Now._"

The word tugged on the magic inherent in the curse itself, and forced his feet into motion. Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth—Gold would have been furiously unhappy, too, thankfully—and headed down the stairs, hating Cora's basement haunt more than ever now that he was stuck with a lame leg for the first time in three centuries. She knew he hated that, of course, because Gold had, but she was patient enough, floating down the stairs behind him like they were about to meet for some sort of romantic if twisted tryst. Cora knew it was nothing of the sort, of course; she'd never been the sort to delude herself. No, she was reveling in her power, reveling in how she could force him to her will and even curtail his resistance. Her commands did not last too long—or at least the "now" one didn't; the other seemed to last the night, unfortunately—but they did the job well enough.

Briefly, Rumplestiltskin contemplated using his own caveat to get himself out of this situation, but he discarded the notion just as quickly. If he did, particularly now, Cora would begin to suspect. Gold had used a _please _on her once or twice by accident, but had never caught on to exactly what that word did; usually, he'd been too…out of sorts…when he'd used the word to notice anything else. But Gold hadn't been the type of man who asked for anything, and he certainly didn't enjoy pleading. Which meant any use of it now would only show Rumplestiltskin's hand far sooner than he wanted it to.

That meant he had to go along with this. No matter how painful it got.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Days Before the Curse:<em>

Like mother, like daughter. Regina also chose to disguise herself as a rat, although at least she was less theatrical about appearing once the guards were gone. Rumplestiltskin left the tray of maggoty food on the ground where the guard had thrown it; his curse meant he didn't need to eat, and he certainly had no desire to eat _that_. Besides which, unexpected visitors were so much more interesting.

"I'm surprised you're still here," the "Dark Princess" said by way of greeting, flicking her eyes at the tray. "How appetizing."

"How nice of you to visit me, dearie," he giggled with perhaps too much madness. The time stuck in solitary confinement was really beginning to grate, particularly when he _knew _the end was so close. Cora was making her lists and tying things up, preparing to break Regina's heart once and for all. Regina didn't know that, of course, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't afford to tell her. So he laughed.

"Cut the crap, Rumple," his student snapped. "I don't have much time."

"Oh, of course you don't." He cocked his head at her. "Can't have your sister knowing that you're visiting the terrible prisoner."

"I still don't know why you got yourself locked up in the first place. _I _could have gotten Snow to tell me the name—I'm going to be Emma's aunt, after all. Why the theatrics?"

"Your mother, of course," he answered seriously. "Better for her to think me powerless, or at least…the enemy of her enemy. And best to leave you out of this completely, I think."

"It's your plan," she sighed. "I don't like it, though. Are you sure we can't just stop the curse? That would be a lot easier than making sure it's broken."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "The curse _will _be cast." _I _need _it to be cast, _he didn't say. "But wouldn't you rather it be under controlled circumstances? To knowwho can break it?"

Regina waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes. I know the arguments. Fine. I'm in. I'll even commit my niece's name to memory so that I can wake up from whatever nightmare Mother puts me in. Then what?"

"Then we talk," he answered seriously, all high-pitched and giggling mannerisms of the imp gone. "Find me when the Savior arrives. Waste no time."

* * *

><p>Regina did not waste time. Aching and uncomfortable, never having even made it home the night before, Rumplestiltskin—Gold—opened his pawnshop the next morning with a scowl on his face. The mayor's daughter turned out to be his first customer, dressed immaculately for the job she was already late for. Regina, of course, was Storybrooke's chief administrative officer, or her mother's principal assistant. Cora would have accepted nothing less for her daughter when she built the curse, Rumplestiltskin reflected, just like she'd plunged her stepdaughter into misery and poverty while she married off Regina to the man she'd wanted her daughter to marry so many years before.<p>

That marriage was twisted, even for Cora, and Rumplestiltskin didn't envy Regina for having woken up inside it. He was just grateful that he hadn't come to and found himself married to _Cora_, because that was the only thing he could think of that would be worse than the events of the previous night.

"You knew!" Regina snarled by way of greeting. "You could have told me!"

"Knew what, dear?" He cocked his head at her curiously, just to watch her fume. Sometimes poking the infamous Mills temper was amusing, and it was far safer to do it to the woman who didn't have such a hold over him.

"You _knew _that she was Henry's mother when you set that adoption up. You _let _me adopt my sister's grandson—David's grandson!—and didn't say a damn word. How could you?"

Perhaps he had stoked that temper enough for one day. "I hate to disappoint you, Regina, but I didn't know. I was as under the curse as much you were until last night."

"There's no way you didn't set this up. It's too perfect."

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Believe what you will, but as you say, it _is _rather perfect. I trust you convinced your unexpected houseguest to stay for a while?"

"David talked her into staying a few days so Henry could get to know her. Apparently she's a 'bail-bondswoman' or something, and her job lets her travel," Regina replied with a sigh. "But I doubt that'll be long enough."

"No, it won't," he agreed unhappily. "Your mother is far too clever for that."

"Says the man who spent the night at her house last night. Weren't you two _over _long before the curse?"

"Rather," Rumplestiltskin replied dryly, trying not to think about the night before. He'd _tried _not to anger Cora. Really, he had. But stopping himself from mouthing off to her had been hard. His only consolation was that apparently Gold had moments like that, too—Gold was _him_, after all, for all he was different—but that also meant that Cora was an expert at beating those moments out of him. Well, not beating per se, but she certainly knew how to cause pain that didn't leave lasting marks. Cora had discovered far too many 'toys' here in the Land Without Magic, and Rumplestiltskin was already beginning to regret letting her cast the curse. Regina would have been so much better.

"Then why the hell did David see your car there when he went for a run this morning?" Regina demanded pointedly.

"It's complicated, and that's all you need to know."

"Gee, that's helpful, Rumple. Sell me something else." She rolled her eyes. "Look, you can keep your damn secrets. I just want to know what your end goal is. Are you still on board with breaking the curse, or are you my mother's newest happy little boy toy?"

Quashing his temper took an effort, and even then his fury colored his tone: "Is that what you take me for? Do you know me so little as that?"

"I don't know. You're the one sleeping with my _mother_," Regina shot back.

"That was not _my _idea, dearie," Rumplestiltskin snapped before he could stop himself. "Your _mother _cast the curse. Storybrooke was made in accordance with _her _desires. She placed us all like pieces on a board—you married to your brother-in-law and me with her. Do you want to be married to David Nolan?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, there you have it then."

She glared; he glared. Yelling at one another had become a major part of their relationship, but that was hardly unexpected. Rumplestiltskin supposed that he should have expected some sort of reaction like this out of her, but truth be told, he hadn't really gotten past his own reactions. Rumplestiltskin didn't want to examine his own feelings on the matter, didn't want to think about how he felt after having been tied down to a bed in Cora's basement for the night and—

_Don't think about it. Dwelling on it will not make things better._

He had to tell himself that. Otherwise he'd continue on the downward spiral Gold had already been in the midst of…and Rumplestiltskin would not allow himself to do that. Gold had been a mess inside, masking it with nastiness and sarcasm, damaged and frightened too often. Rumplestiltskin, however, was not human. He could deal with the worst Cora had to offer and come out of it on top.

He had to.

* * *

><p>Her life had become seriously weird. First, the son she had almost (but never, not really, not for a single moment) forgotten she had shown up on her doorstep in Boston. On her <em>birthday<em>. Right after she'd wished not to spend the day alone. And then he had insisted that she take him home—saying that he'd say she kidnapped him if she tried to call the police, smart little bastard that he was—so that he could get to know her. Even worse, the kid claimed that he lived in a town full of fairy tale characters! And of course, his grandmother was the Evil Queen, right out of _Snow White_. Poisoned apples and all, apparently.

The only thing that would have been better than that would be if he claimed his adopted mother was the Evil Queen. Now _that _would have been ironic, particularly because the woman in question seemed to be perfectly nice, even taking her understandable freak out into account. Emma supposed that if she'd gotten a kid in a closed adoption, and then that kid's birth mother showed up with no warning, she'd probably have freaked out a little bit, too. Regina had recovered pretty damn quickly, all in all, and Emma found that she didn't even really dislike her kid's mother. She liked David better, of course—he was hard not to like, just an all around nice and friendly man—but it seemed like Henry had pretty good parents. She'd wondered from time to time who her son had wound up with, if he was happy, and Emma was glad to find out that she hadn't been lying to herself when she'd told herself he had to be.

The Nolans had even offered her a room to sleep in, and Emma always kept a change of clothes in her trunk of the bug. She could buy whatever else she needed, stay for a week or so to make sure Henry was really happy, get to know him a little, and then head back to Boston. Simple.

"Look!" Henry pointed, grabbing her hand. Emma was _supposed _to be walking him to the bus, but somehow she got the feeling that she was being dragged into a tour of the town instead.

"At what, kid?"

"At the clock tower!" Henry said, and Emma heard the _duh _in the ten year old voice.

Henry pointed, and Emma finally followed his gaze to look at the clock tower. It looked perfectly normal to her, ticking away every second like any other old-fashioned clock Emma had ever seen. She shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"It's _moving,_" the kid said as if that was somehow important.

"And? Clocks are supposed to move. That's how they work."

"Don't you see? It never has. Because of the curse, time wasn't moving in Storybrooke. I was the _only _one aging," Henry told her, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and joy. "But now time is finally moving, and all because you stayed."

His smile was infectious, and Emma hardly had the heart to tell him: "Don't put this on me, kiddo. I'm sure that the clock repairman finally just did his job."

"That's Marco, but he's really Geppetto. You know, from 'Pinocchio'. And he _definitely _hasn't been up there."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you, kid?" she sighed.

"Yup!" Finally, Henry seemed to find his bus, and he rushed on board when it stopped, waving at Emma. "See you this afternoon, Emma!"

Waving back, she bit back the urge to just run away. She had _no _idea what she was doing here or where this was going to leave, but Emma had promised to stay for a week to get to know the boy she'd given up. She owned Henry at least that much, but then she was going to get out of his life and let his parents raise him. Oh, if Henry wanted, she'd exchange emails with him from time to time. Maybe she'd even get him birthday and Christmas gifts; now he had a face and he was _real_, so Emma supposed that was the least she could do. But no more. After this week, she was gone.

Then she could go back to Boston and stop listening to this insanity about curses, Evil Queens, and people without memories. Then life could get back to _normal_.

* * *

><p>"What <em>are <em>you doing, darling?"

The familiar voice made Regina look up, and she almost snapped something very regrettable at her mother before she managed to remind herself that she was in Storybrooke, not the Enchanted Forest. Her mother had crafted herself the perfect, obedient daughter with the curse, one who helped Cora, never questioned her, and married who she had been told to marry. Maybe Rumple had a point. They had to keep pretending until it was too late. After all, Rumplestiltskin had never told _Cora _who could break the Dark Curse; he'd saved that tidbit for Snow, Charming, and Regina. Cora thought that Snow had lost her baby in the hours before the curse. Regina had made sure of that when she ran into Cora as her mother strode into the Charmings' castle ahead of the curse cloud to proclaim her victory.

"_Are you happy, Mother?" Regina demanded, only half faking her heartbreak. If _how _her mother had cast the curse wasn't bad enough already, now everyone else was doomed to have their happy endings ripped away, too, including her beloved sister. _

"_Happy about what, dear?" Cora strode forward surrounded by guards, clad all in regal purple and red, looking every inch the queen._

"_You've won! We've lost everything. Snow even lost the baby because of you!"_

"_Did she?" her mother purred, and part of Regina knew that Cora's smile was a victory for them. "I'll have to work that into her miserable fate."_

"_Isn't ruining everyone's lives enough?" she demanded. "Why the curse? Why can't you just leave us alone?"_

"_You're my daughter, Regina. I'll never leave you alone."_

"I'm looking over the accounts so that we're prepared at the next city council meeting, of course," Regina answered her waiting mother. Cora was dressed as the Mayor, not the Evil Queen, but her suits still tended towards dark purples and grays. Or maroon. She did love red, Cora did.

"How lovely. Did you find any discrepancies?"

"Not since you took Mr. Dougal to court for embezzlement. No one dares," she said as dutifully as she could manage. Just looking at her mother made her want to scream. How _could _Cora stand there as if she was wholly innocent of making everyone miserable? _Then again, knowing Mother, she's quite happy with what she's done to everyone, especially poor Snow. She probably thinks they all deserve it. _Cora was probably happy to victimize even poor Old King Cole, or City Councilor Julian Dougal in Storybrooke, who had certainly not been guilty of embezzlement. He'd just annoyed Cora.

"Of course not. But that's not what I was asking about, Regina." The edge in Cora's voice was hard to miss, and Regina sat up straight.

"Then what is it?" she asked, trying for non-confrontational.

"You have a houseguest you didn't tell me about."

Regina blinked. "That was fast. Ms. Swan just came to town last night."

_This can't be happening. How can she know _already_? This entire plan is going to go to pieces before we're even a day into breaking the curse._ But no. She was overreacting, wasn't she? Cora was just being paranoid. As usual.

"We don't often get visitors here, darling. I'm simply curious about what she's doing here." Cora's fake smile had to be patented, didn't it?

Tell the truth or lie? Or use the truth to mask the more dangerous aspects of Emma's presence? Regina only had a split second to decide, and the words came out almost before she'd finished making up her mind. "She's Henry's mother."

"She's _what?_"

"Henry's birth mother," Regina said as nonchalantly as she could manage. Her mother was starting to sound possessive, which almost made Regina laugh out loud. Henry was _her _son, and Cora only showed interest in him when she felt that Regina was doing something wrong. "Henry tracked her down, and David and I decided that it would be good for Henry to get to know her. Ms. Swan isn't interested in raising him, but she promised to stay a week for Henry's sake."

"Did she? I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Under the curse, that hint in her mother's voice would have been enough to make Regina backpedal from any idea she had, but today she felt a little more independent.

So she smiled at her mother as innocently as she could. "It's only a week, Mama. What harm can she do?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you again for all the lovely reviews! As you're waiting for the next chapter, think on these questions: 1) How long will it take before Cora realizes that Emma is Snow's supposedly dead child and 2) What will Rumplestiltskin do now that he's awake?_

_Stay tuned for Chapter Four: "No More Happy Endings", where Lacey calls Gold, Regina and Henry try to make Emma believe, and Regina tells Henry a secret. Back in the past, Belle returns to the Dark Castle after Rumplestiltskin lets her go. _


	4. Chapter 4: No More Happy Endings

WARNING: References to non-con/rape in this chapter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Four—"No More Happy Endings"<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Lacey." Gold answered the phone in surprise, knowing that number the moment he saw it. He'd avoided thinking about her, particularly last night, but now every memory <em>Gold <em>had of Belle's Storybrooke self bubbled to the surface. He hadn't expected Gold to know Belle here. He hadn't _wanted _Gold to know Lacey. The entire idea had been for them to stay apart, and then Gold had gone and fallen in love with her! He had known that letting Cora cast the curse had risks—particularly for himself and Belle—but Rumplestiltskin had taken precautions to keep his True Love safe…the first of which had keeping _his _alter ego away from hers.

"Hey," his beloved's voice said warmly. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Damn. Gold had plans with Lacey, didn't he? He often did, much though the pair of them hid that from, well, everyone. The only person who knew they were together was Renee—

Shock, need, and sheer terror almost tore Rumplestiltskin's legs out from under him, and he staggered over to the stool at his worktable, barely managing to sit down before he collapsed. His cane clattered uselessly to the floor, but he didn't notice where. For a long moment, he couldn't manage to say a word; too many emotions were rolling through his mind, too many memories. His memories. Gold's memories. Belle and Lacey merging together, the same beautiful face dancing through his mind over and over again. Gold and Lacey finding one another, falling for one another, hiding their love because something told them both it was dangerous to let others know. No. It had been dangerous to let _Cora_ know, because Gold had been stuck in the same horrid trap Rumplestiltskin was; he just didn't know why he was trapped. And then there was the beautiful little girl who was caught in the middle of this terrible mess.

"I, uh, well…I think I'm going to have to cancel," Rumplestiltskin said, finally finding his voice. But just saying the words made his heart clench.

"Why? Is she…?" Lacey was used to that, Gold had known. Their plans almost never panned out because Cora's presence was a constant shadow marring their happiness.

"I suspect she may, yes," he replied as honestly as he dared. Perhaps Cora would not call him tonight. But perhaps she would. Or, as things began to change, Cora would notice his relationship with Lacey…and that would endanger Belle. And her daughter.

_What if she already knew?_ Rumplestiltskin felt cold. The possibility certainly existed, but the thought alone was enough to make his hands shake. Cora might already know, or she _would _find out. Either way, that meant he had to stay away from both Lacey and Renee. Cora's revenge would be as vindictive as it would be swift, and Rumplestiltskin would not risk those he loved.

"Then…when do you want to meet? Lunch tomorrow, maybe? You haven't come to the library in a long time, and no one will think twice if you do."

The hopeful note in her voice was enough to break his heart. Rumplestiltskin had never been strong—Belle had always had the strength in their relationship—but he had to do this. For her sake. Closing his eyes, Rumplestiltskin scraped up the courage to say:

"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart." _Don't call her that!_ If he did, he'd never do this. "I think…I think we should be careful for a while. Not see one another."

Lacey took a long moment to answer, her confusion painfully plain. "But why? We've always been careful, Gold. Why now? Did I do something? Did _she?_"

"I just…I just think it's what we need to do." With an effort, he turned his voice hard, banishing the tightness in his chest to the back of his mind. "Goodbye, Lacey. Don't call again."

He barely managed to hang up the phone before he could catch her response, but not before Rumplestiltskin heard the pain in her voice. Lacey was not Belle, but she _was_—and that meant she was the center of his very dark world. And he had just hurt her. Willfully. Purposefully. Coldly. He wanted nothing more than to cross the street, go to the library, and wrap his arms around her, saying over and over again how sorry he was…but he couldn't. _Wouldn't. _Above all else, Rumplestiltskin had to keep her safe, and if that meant staying away from her, that was what he would do. Even if he broke his own heart in the process. Even if he needed her so badly that it burned.

Slamming the phone down on his workbench, Rumplestiltskin dropped his head into his shaking hands. He couldn't do this. He could—_No! _He wouldn't even think of that option, no matter how carefully he had prepared for it. Cora in power had turned out far worse for him than Rumplestiltskin had ever dreamed she might be, and he had to keep them safe.

The phone rang again, making his head snap up, eyes wide and hopeful. If it was Lacey, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from apologizing, from heading to the library and—

It was Cora.

"What do you want?" he snapped. Gold knew better than to ignore her.

"My, you sound out of sorts. Is everything all right?" she replied with false concern.

"Everything is quite all right, dear. It's so kind of you to ask," he growled, forcing himself back on balance and ignoring the chill that ran down his spine upon hearing Cora's voice. It really was quite pathetic that she could affect him like that, but Rumplestiltskin had never handled feeling powerless well.

"Oh, lovely. Then you're free tonight?"

The words made him tense, but she had not phrased it properly. Cora was offering Rumplestiltskin—or Gold, as she thought—the chance to come to her willingly, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Particularly not after talking to Belle. "I'm afraid I have other plans."

"What, sitting at home by yourself? Don't be ridiculous." Rumplestiltskin could hear her laugh, and knew what the next words would be before Cora said them. "Do say you'll join me tonight, dear."

The magic was instantaneous; he might not _want _to, but now he had to. The feeling was much like falling. There was only one place to land, and he had no choice. Still, he could infuse a good bit of sarcasm in his response.

"I'd be absolutely _delighted_ to."

Rumplestiltskin slammed the phone back down on the workbench before Cora could gloat, hoping that it broke with the impact. Unfortunately, the offending piece of electronics remained stubbornly intact, leaving him to stare at it in helpless rage and despair. If he closed his eyes, images of the previous night would start dancing before his eyes—_crying out in pain, struggling against the bonds holding him, a gag stuffed in his mouth and Cora laughing—_so Rumplestiltskin did not let himself. He just stared, feeling his temper building as the voice of his curse whispered darkly in his mind. It didn't like being helpless, either. Not at all.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years, 2 months Before the Curse<em>

"Rumplestiltskin!"

The voice that called his name was hauntingly familiar, and startled him out of the spell he'd been concentrating on. A quick wave of one hand quelled the potion as it started to boil, killing the magical reaction before it could get out of control. He'd probably pay for that later, but his loss of concentration had already ruined the potion, so discarding it the quick and easy way was just smarter than doing it the hard way. Besides which—

"Rumplestiltskin?" her voice called again, and he _wasn't _imagining things. She sounded so uncertain that his emotions got the better of his common sense, and next the Dark One knew, he was standing in the entrance hall.

Belle _looked _real enough, but he knew that she couldn't be. Belle would never be in the Dark Castle again; like a fool, he'd let her go, told her to go to town. He hadn't wanted to, but he _loved _her, and he couldn't stand to keep her prisoner any more. She wasn't stupid enough to feel the same for a lonely old monster; ergo, she would not have come back. Even if Belle _had _taken leave of her senses and returned, she certainly wouldn't be wearing such a form fitting warrior-like outfit. Still, the pants and tunic she was wearing did compliment her quite nicely, and it took Rumplestiltskin a moment to tear his eyes away from this not-Belle apparition. He'd dreamed of her impossible return too many times in the two months since she left; clearly, his subconscious desires were getting the better of him. Still, he'd never hallucinated before, and Rumplestiltskin knew better than anyone how some people really did have identical doppelgangers out there. Just look at his two Prince Jameses! So he cleared his throat.

"You called, dearie?" he asked as casually as he could, as if he stared stupidly at Belle-like women every day of the week.

"I came back," the woman said, and Rumplestiltskin blinked. The words did not process.

"Uh, come again?"

"Exactly. I came back." And there was that smile, a little hesitant, but it was _Belle's _smile, and he looked at her even more stupidly.

"Err…I let you go," he said rather foolishly.

"I know." Now she was the one who swallowed nervously. "But I ran into a dwarf, and we had a good talk about not letting go of what you love. So I came back."

She'd said three sentences. He heard three words of it. Rumplestiltskin stuttered: "What you…_love_?"

"Why did you let me go?" Belle countered, her voice barely above a whisper. Finally, she moved towards him, stopping barely an arm's reach away and staring at him with big blue eyes.

He would drown in those blue eyes if he wasn't careful.

"Because I, uh…I…" He had no idea what he was going to say.

"I know there's a darkness that's taken root in you, but can you love? I know that you loved the son you lost—that you still do. Is there room for anyone else in your heart?" Belle asked softly, and Rumplestiltskin could see the bravery shining out in her eyes as she put her heart on the line. "If I love you, can you love me?"

This was it. He could lie and send her away, could try to avoid answering and effectively do the same, or he could risk his own battered and blackened heart by being honest. His last attempt at love had burned him so badly that Rumplestiltskin had sworn to himself that he'd never love again…until Belle walked into his life and changed everything. Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. _Don't make yourself vulnerable, _the voice of his curse whispered in his mind. _She'll end up just like Cora. She only wants your power. They all do. She doesn't want you_.No one_ would want you._ Pushing the voice aside was impossible. _No one will ever love you!_ No one but Bae, the precious boy who he had abandoned for power.

He had the same choice again, didn't he?

"I, uh… Why else would I have let you go?" Rumplestiltskin finally managed to say, feeling vulnerable and helpless and _hopeful_ for the first time in ages.

"You love me?" she gasped, her beautiful eyes going wide.

There was nothing suave about his nod, nothing controlled or certain, but suddenly Belle was in his arms, and if that wasn't the best feeling in the world, kissing her _was_. Because she was kissing him, hesitantly and wonderfully, and this was _Belle_. Belle had said she _loved _him, and his heart was absolutely singing with joy. Power surged through his bones, and for a moment it was absolutely wonderful, until something began to _shift._

Rumplestiltskin stumbled back a step, letting Belle go in his haste and reaching a hand—a pale, unscaled, normal hand—up to touch his face. It was _changing._ "What?" he stuttered. "What's happening?"

"Rumple?" Belle sounded as confused as he felt.

But he wasn't confused. There was only one explanation. _True Love can break any curse. _The thought itself was overwhelming—_Belle_ was his _True Love?_—but it was also terrifying. He needed his power, needed it to make sure the curse happened, to find Baelfire, to protect himself from his many enemies. _Don't let her do it! Stop her! Kill her! _the curse screamed in his mind, but its voice was fading rapidly. Even as Rumplestiltskin stared at his hands, the scales continued to disappear and his black claws slowly became human fingernails—_No!_ He had to stop this.

_Baelfire. I need the curse to find Bae. _He never even examined the irony of using his love for his precious boy to hold onto the darkest curse in all of creation; Rumplestiltskin just focused on that, focused on his rage over having lost his son, and pulled the curse back to himself. Wide-eyed, he watched as his hands slowly returned to their accustomed form, sharp black claws replacing those fragile nails and scales replacing skin. Reaching up to touch his face, Rumplestiltskin felt the lines of it changing back, felt the ugly darkness returning and power flooding back into him. The breath he hadn't known he was holding tore out of him in an explosive gasp of relief and regret, and he felt the curse of the Dark One return to full residence within his mind and body.

_Kill her!_ it screamed again, knowing that the woman who stood in front of him was the most dangerous foe the curse of the Dark One could ever face.

"Rumple?" Belle asked again, interrupting his thoughts. "What just happened?"

"I…"

He should throw her out. Lock her in a dungeon. _Kill her._ Be rid of her forever, so that she wasn't a threat to him—

_No. _Somehow, his love for Belle overrode the curse's desire to be rid of her, at least for the moment. She looked confused, not disappointed, completely mystified by what had just happened. _She didn't know what she was doing_, Rumplestiltskin realized. _Neither of us did._ And she'd almost broken his curse without trying. That could only mean one thing, one terrifying and beautiful and amazing thing. This wasn't just love. This was True Love, the most powerful magic in the world. That sudden realization, and his acceptance of it—for why else could the overpowering warmth within him silence even the most insistent cries of his curse for blood and destruction?—tore a high pitched giggle out of Rumplestiltskin. He didn't need the bandit princess and her shepherd prince to make a True Love potion. He could make his own!

"Are you all right?" Brave girl that she was, Belle stepped forward again, placing a hand on his arm. His head snapped around to look at her, and Rumplestiltskin somehow stepped on the desire to start laughing manically.

"Oh, yes. Aside from the fact that you just nearly broke my curse"—another laugh ripped out of him, uneven and uncertain—"I'm perfectly fine. Are you?"

"Of course I am!" Now she was looking at him like he was a little bit mad, but that didn't surprise Belle any longer, so her glare was rather piercing. "Your curse? What curse? And how would I break it?"

"This curse," Rumplestiltskin replied, making a sweeping gesture at his own grotesque appearance. "The curse of the Dark One. You didn't think I was born this way, did you?"

"You keep telling me that you're not a man," she pointed out reasonably.

"Ah. Well, I'm not, but I was." A warning prickled in his mind; the last time Rumplestiltskin had told a woman he was in love with too much about his curse, it had not ended well for him. Clearly Belle needed _some _explanation, but that didn't mean that he had to tell her the gory details, or about the dagger. _Definitely not about the dagger_. "What you see is the result of the curse. That darkness you spoke of…that's the curse. And your kiss, a kiss born of True Love…well, True Love's kiss can break any curse."

That almost seemed to stun her into silence, and for a moment, terror made Rumplestiltskin's heart hammer in his throat. She loved a monster. Could she love a man cursed into a monster? After a very quiet moment, Belle whispered: "We're _True Love_?"

Relief made his eyes go a little wide, and he nodded. Every child in the Enchanted Forest had grown up on stories of True Love, but so few of them ever actually found it. And yet he had. True Love for Rumplestiltskin. How…unlikely. "It would appear so," he answered nervously.

"So I could free you?" Belle caught on fast, and her expression was eager as she moved forward as if to kiss him again. Rumplestiltskin skittered back, tearing his arm free of her grasp.

"No!" he shouted before he could stop himself, the word coming out far more forcefully than he intended. Belle blinked, looking hurt.

"Why not?"

"I need the curse," he answered, driven to honesty by the confused pain on her face. "Without it, I'll have no magic, and I need the curse to find my son."

"Oh."

Another long moment of silence passed; Rumplestiltskin did not know what to say. He _wanted _to kiss her again, but there was no way he could dare. He might have been able to push back the effects of their kiss once, but there was no guarantee that he could do so a second time. A second kiss might very well undo him, and he _needed the magic to find Bae._ The world could not be so cruel as to make him choose between the two of them, could it? Against all odds, he had found a woman he loved and who loved him; would she leave him because he was cursed? Belle had been able to fall in love with the monster, but…

Of course the world could be that cruel. It always had been to him. Rumplestiltskin braced himself.

"Do you want me to leave?" Belle whispered unexpectedly. He'd just expected her to say that she was.

"No," he admitted just as softly.

Belle stepped forward to take his hands as Rumplestiltskin's heart hammered in his throat. "Then I won't," she promised. "And I won't kiss you, either, if you don't want me to."

"You won't?" Rumplestiltskin echoed stupidly.

"I believe we made a deal before I left, about what you would do when I came back," Belle replied with a smile. "That means you owe me a story, Rumple."

Although he knew exactly what story she meant, Rumplestiltskin was tempted to pretend he didn't. The last thing he wanted was to admit to his own cowardice, to tell her how he had lost the one person who he loved more than life itself. But she was looking at him so trustingly, and Rumplestiltskin could feel Belle opening her heart to him. Could he do any less than trust her a little? He wasn't going to give up his curse—he couldn't!—but maybe he could give her this. She had come back, after all, even though the beast had let her go. Beauty had returned.

So he told her.

* * *

><p>"You can't possibly believe a word of this," Emma snapped at Regina the moment Henry skipped out of the room, heading off to find the Book (it was definitely capitalized, given the way Henry talked about it). David was off doing whatever it was he did at the animal shelter, and that left the two women alone in the living room of the Nolans' extremely large house. Emma, however, was done being intimidated by her birth son's rather rich family after two nights under their roof, and she had had quite enough of listening to Henry go on about the supposed fairy tales behind the town of Storybrooke.<p>

"Henry does," Regina answered. Rather evasively, Emma felt.

"So? I'm not asking what Henry believes. I'm asking if _you _buy into this fairy tale crap."

Henry's adopted mother sighed. "Look, Emma, this probably isn't something we should talk about right now. If Henry hears you saying that you think he's crazy for believing this—"

"I didn't say that," Emma objected.

"You didn't have to," the other woman retorted. "It's written all over your face. Look, Henry's in counseling—my mother insisted on it after the first time he tried to run away two years ago. He's not crazy, but this is _important _to him. Doctor Hopper believes that he uses those stories to express complex emotions, and that if we crush Henry's belief system, it will do more harm than good. So don't you _dare _say that to him!"

"Take it easy, Regina. I'm not going to go tell Henry he's crazy or anything. I'm just…worried about him, I guess," Emma admitted. "I mean, it looks like he's got a great life here and great parents. But he's obsessed with fairy tales, and he thinks they're real. Can't you do anything about that?"

Regina's smile went very crooked. "Believe me, I've tried."

"That doesn't sound very promising."

"Oh, it isn't." Henry's mother laughed briefly, and Emma got the feeling that there was something she wasn't saying. Regina wasn't lying, not exactly, anyway, but she was definitely leaving things out. Then again, who would be willing to spill out all of their childrearing secrets to a woman they'd met all of two and a half days ago, even if she did happen to be the birth mother of her son? Frankly, Emma was more surprised that Regina _hadn't _tried to run her out of town right away. She never would have expected the other woman to let her get to know Henry for Henry's sake. Regina really didn't seem like the type of person who was terribly good at sharing, and Emma had a feeling she'd already gotten on Regina's last nerve.

"I've got an idea!" Henry's voice interjected before Emma could call Regina on the omission, and their son—_Regina's son. I just gave birth to him. Nothing more!_—barreled into the room with the book in his arms. He was all smiles and laughter, and Emma had to admit that the kid was really engaged in this fairy tale stuff.

She just wished it was something normal, like computer games or sports.

"And what idea is that, Henry?" Regina asked, turning to him with a smile.

"We need to give this operation a code name, so Grandmother doesn't figure it out," Henry replied seriously. "I mean, she's the Evil Queen. She's _going _to try to stop us from breaking the curse."

"Henry, that's not a very nice thing to say about your grandmother," Emma chided him when Regina said nothing.

Much to her surprise, the dark haired woman rolled her eyes, and muttered: "But not always far from the truth."

"Yikes. Do I want to meet her?" Emma asked, feeling her eyebrows go up.

"No!" mother and son answered together.

"Okay, so I can see that's not a great idea…" She took a deep breath, and looked back at Henry. "Kid, I think a code name might be going a little too far. And besides, I'm heading back to Boston in five days. Shouldn't you talk to your parents about this one?"

"I can't talk to Dad about this. I already tried. He'll just think I'm crazy, like Mom used to," Henry replied immediately.

Emma looked at Regina, narrowing her eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

"Many things," the other woman answered evasively, but luckily for her, Henry was too excited to dwell on that right now. He steamrolled right over Emma's question and Regina's response as if they didn't matter, grinning.

"I think we should call it Operation Scorpion," he announced. "And you can't leave, Emma. You're the Savior! You're the one who has to break the curse and bring back the happy endings."

"Y'know, for a town that you say has no happy endings, your parents seem to be doing pretty well," she countered, and was surprised when Regina grimaced.

"But they aren't," Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They're not even supposed to be married. "Dad is actually my grandfather—he's _your _dad. And Mom is your aunt. Or step-aunt. She's your mother's older stepsister."

"_What?"_

Emma looked at Regina for support, but the other woman just shrugged. "I could have told you that it gets weirder," she said drolly.

* * *

><p>"You do believe me, don't you, Mom?" Henry asked quietly as Regina tucked him into bed. David and Emma were still downstairs talking, but Regina had taken this moment to spend alone with her son, knowing that Henry needed someone to talk to and unwilling to let that be Emma. Oh, Emma seemed nice enough, but she really didn't know how to deal with an insecure ten year old, which left Regina to soothe Henry's fears.<p>

"Of course I do, sweetie," she reassured him, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"Why? You didn't before."

"Emma showed up," Regina admitted slowly. She had to be careful what she said—much though she loved and trusted her son, he _was _only ten. If Regina told him that she remembered everything, he'd get terribly excited, ask a thousand questions, and then possibly say something in front of _her _mother that would give the entire thing away. She knew Henry wouldn't intentionally betray her, but Regina also knew firsthand how manipulative Cora could be. Henry not knowing everything would only protect them both.

"There's more, isn't there?" he asked perceptively, and Regina smiled despite herself. Henry really was such a clever boy, absolutely amazingly so. There were times that he utterly astounded her, both with his compassion and his smarts.

"I know my mother, and it all makes sense." She didn't like telling Henry half-truths—and she knew that Henry would like it even less—but what else could Regina do? _You can tell the truth, _a voice inside her head that sounded awfully like her sister said. There were so many reasons she shouldn't tell Henry…but Henry also deserved to know the truth. "I actually…I actually might remember the Enchanted Forest, and life there."

"_Really? _Are you just humoring me?"

"No, sweetie, I'm not. Though I do think you're right in that your father won't understand. Not yet. I didn't, before I remembered."

"Do you _really _remember being Princess Regina?" Henry asked, staring at her inquisitively.

"Yes, I do. I'll tell you about it someday—but not at bedtime. I promise." The spontaneous hug warmed Regina's heart, and as much as she had once been against the idea of letting the Dark Curse happen, now she firmly believed that it had been worth it, if only for Henry's sake. The thought made her feel a little guilty, but not too terribly much when her son was in her arms.

"Okay!"

"But no talking to your dad about this. He doesn't remember, and he probably _will _think you're crazy."

Henry shrugged philosophically. "He's really my grandfather, not my dad."

"He's your dad, too, you know. Even if it's not in your book, it counts," Regina pointed out. "Am I less your mom because I didn't give birth to you?"

"Of course not."

"Then how's it different with your dad?"

"It just is. I guess." Another shrug. "Doesn't mean I don't love you both, though. Even if I could do without Grandma."

That startled a laugh out of Regina. "I probably shouldn't say this," she said with a conspiratorial smile, "but there are times I agree with you."

More than a few of them.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate hearing from you. Next up, Chapter Five: "Never Again", where Rumplestiltskin and Cora square off in the present. In the past, Regina tries to escape her mother's plans, Snow tries to help, and Rumplestiltskin and Belle continue to build their relationship._

_Here's a few notes for anyone who might be confused:_

_1. Belle never ran into anyone on the road when she was leaving Rumplestiltskin, so she made the decision to come back after talking to Dreamy._

_2. Cora's curse created Lacey French as Storybrooke's librarian and a single mom. No heavily drinking barfly here._

_3. Regina and David are not actually a couple. They got cursed together by Cora, but back in the Enchanted Forest, David and Snow are married. Emma is still their daughter._


	5. Chapter 5: Never Again

_**Chapter Five—"Never Again"**_

* * *

><p><span><em>13 Years Before the Curse<em>

"I can't believe she's doing this!" Regina snarled, barging into Snow's room and flinging her hairpiece at the bed. It missed, bouncing off a nearby mirror and making Snow flinch. Her twelve year old younger sister threw Regina a cross look.

"Who is doing what?" Snow asked.

"Mother! Who else?"

Flinging herself down on the bed, Regina let out a huge sigh, flopping onto her back and staring up at the ceiling in frustration. She'd lost the argument with her mother—she always did—when Cora had oh so quietly threatened to kill Daniel if Regina did not agree to meet the damn prince. _"And be _gracious, _darling," _Cora had said, venom dripping from every word. _"Your natural beauty should draw him in well enough, but if you start complaining, you will never find a suitable husband."_

"_I _have _a husband,_" she had snarled.

"_Your farce of a marriage never existed, remember? The man who performed the ceremony has repudiated it. Besides, no princess would ever have resorted to such a _low _marriage. Daniel took you against your will and forced you. Remember?"_

_With threats to Daniel hanging over her head, all Regina had been able to do was nod meekly and promise to behave herself suitably. _

"The gala?" Snow asked knowingly.

Regina groaned. "Yes. King George is bringing his son."

"He might be perfectly charming," her little sister pointed out, sitting down next to her and lying back so that they were side by side. "You never know. You've never met Prince James."

"You're way too optimistic for your own good," she shot back. "And I'm not going to betray Daniel like that."

Snow was the only one she could talk to about Daniel. Her mother continuously threatened him, everyone else thought Daniel had _kidnapped _her, and King Leopold was blissfully unaware that his 'beloved' queen had an innocent man locked away to keep her daughter in line. Even if Regina _did _tell him, and if by some miracle her stepfather believed her, everyone still thought that Daniel had kidnapped her back when they'd run away. No one would believe a word of it, not two years after Cora had imprisoned Daniel…and not with Leopold as deeply in love with Cora as ever.

"I tried to tell Papa again," Snow said quietly, and Regina felt a smaller hand slip into her own. "But he doesn't believe me. He only believes Cora."

"We've always known she was using some sort of enchantment on him," Regina replied. "I only wish knew how to get it off."

"Me, too. I miss him," her little sister replied, and Regina sat up to hug her. She felt so sorry for Snow. Like Regina, Snow had once been so close to her father, particularly after her mother's death. But now Leopold utterly ignored his once-beloved daughter. The King had attention only for Cora, and was constantly going on about how he was so fortunate that he had been granted a second wife so uniquely suited to his inclinations and who understood him so perfectly. He constantly threw balls in her honor, waxed poetic about her beauty, and indulged Cora's every desire. Leopold was utterly smitten.

As a consequence, Snow rarely even saw her father. Regina saw him even less often; so far as Leopold was concerned, his stepdaughter might as well not even exist, unless he was telling her to obey her mother. Regina had never felt so lonely—or she would have, if not for Snow. They only had one another now, but at least they had that much.

Several moments passed in silence, before Snow suddenly said:

"Maybe we could."

Regina blinked. "Could what?"

"Get it off. The magic, I mean," the young princess said. "After all, if your mother can do magic, you probably could, too, right?"

"I…I don't know about that. I don't know any magic at all."

"Doesn't Cora have a spell book? I've seen her with it. I think." Snow pulled back to look up at Regina, biting her lip nervously. "Could you use the book if we steal it?

Regina swallowed. "I don't know." But the hope on Snow's face—the hope of getting her father back, free from Cora's influence and himself once more—made her nod hesitantly. "But I can try."

* * *

><p>There had been a time when he had loved Cora.<p>

Or, at least Rumplestiltskin had _thought _he did. Perhaps he had been only in love with the idea of a woman as drawn to darkness as he was, the idea of someone who looked at him and saw something desirable instead of someone to be despised or feared. Cora had not cared what he looked like. She had cared for his knowledge and his power, and he had thought she cared for his love. He had believed she returned that love until she ripped her own heart out and chose power of a different sort, breaking his heart in the process. At the time, he had cursed himself for a fool, told himself that no beautiful and powerful young woman could ever want _him._ Rumplestiltskin was a monster, and desirable young women did not fall in love with monsters.

Despite that, Cora had always held a special place in his heart. Perhaps he was just growing sentimental in his old age, or maybe Rumplestiltskin just had a hard time letting go, but he'd always felt affection for her, even when they had been at odds. Even when he'd been taunting her and baiting her, watching her creep ever closer to casting his curse (and trying to slow her rage down enough so that his preparations could be completed first), he had been somewhat proud of her. He had been pleased to see his former student and lover doing so well, even if it was in a life other than the one he had offered her. Oh, a part of him had rejoiced when he'd heard how she murdered the prince she left him for—he'd giggled quite gleefully upon receiving the news—and he'd even wondered, for a few moments, if his own rage over her betrayal would mellow enough that he might accept her back. But she'd never made the offer; Cora had been too focused on snagging the prince she had once lost out on.

His lingering affection for her weathered that; it was not exactly a rejection, and Rumplestiltskin was not sure he was prepared to forgive Cora, anyway. But it could not weather _this_. Gold had been a little confused concerning his feelings for Cora; after all, without knowing what it was that kept him going back to her, Gold had understandably assumed that it was his choice. Gold had known he loved _Lacey, _but he had not known what he felt for Cora. He hated her, but he had also been drawn to her, and he had always wondered what exactly was wrong with him for that. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, experienced no such ambiguity in his feelings. Not now.

Now he simply hated her, hated the magic that forced him up her front walk, burned to rip her to pieces when Cora greeted him with a kiss, pressing her body against his.

"_Tonight, dear," _she had said to him on the phone just three hours earlier, right after he'd ignored another phone call from Lacey and was hating himself for it. This made three nights out of the four since he'd woken that she had demanded his presence, which was worrisome. Did she suspect something? Usually, Gold had found himself at Cora's a maximum of three nights a week, although the frequency of their 'dates' did seem to increase when Cora was bored or frustrated. He had never told her about the Savior; perhaps she was just irritated to find Regina hosting a stranger.

No matter. There was not time to think on that now. Cora was far too clever, and knew him far too well. He had to school his mind as well as his face around her, because Cora was far too adept at guessing. He could not afford to let her realize that Rumplestiltskin was lurking dangerously behind the façade of Mr. Gold.

"No need to be so stiff, dear," she cooed at him, and his curse screamed in his mind for her blood. "You're acting like you aren't happy to see me."

"I'm not," he replied bluntly; Gold had been direct to the point of insolence, even when Cora tried to hurt that out of him. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes not so much. "I had plans."

She cocked her head. "Nothing that can't wait, surely." A sly smile came as she gestured him in, closing the door behind him. "Particularly since I know how anti-social you are. You should get out more often."

"Not if it means spending time with you," Rumplestiltskin retorted, stopping in the entryway. "I was planning to be perfectly happy with a new book this evening."

After all, the last thing he wanted was for her to start thinking he had plans with anyone else. He hadn't, but Rumplestiltskin couldn't afford to have Cora starting to wonder if he cared about anyone other than himself. Gold had been a loner, for all his stolen moments with Lacey—_Don't think of her here!_—and Cora needed to think he still was. Otherwise, his plans might fall apart before things even got moving.

"Oh, we are feisty this evening!" Cora laughed, and then leaned in to press another kiss against his lips, this one harder and more demanding. "I do love it when you work to suit my moods so nicely."

"I'm not doing this for you," he snarled, feeling his hackles rise and his curse's fury reaching a fevered pitch. It hated being helpless, just like he did, and neither liked being cornered. "And I'm not in the mood."

"That's too bad," she replied, the laughter never leaving her eyes. "Because _I _am."

"Then I suppose you'll simply be left wanting," Rumplestiltskin snapped viciously, despite the way he could feel the power coiling up in his mind, pushing him to submit. Gold had tried to sidestep that _Tonight_ command more than once, and succeeded very rarely; it brought him to her home and encouraged compliance, but Rumplestiltskin was not sure how binding the caveat was. "Unless you want to call someone else, of course."

Cora still had Graham's heart, and Storybrooke's Sheriff was one of her on-again, off-again lovers, along with a pirate who Rumplestiltskin had not been at all pleased to see in Storybrooke. He didn't think she had Jones' heart, but she certainly had torn Graham's out years earlier, which meant the unfortunate huntsman was even more at her beck and call than Gold had ever been. Normally, even Rumplestiltskin wouldn't wish Cora's nastier moods on any man, but tonight he just needed to get away from her. He didn't want her touching him, and Rumplestiltskin sure as hell wasn't in the mood to indulge her more sadistic whims tonight.

"I don't think so." Her voice went cold. "Let's go downstairs."

The magic build inside him, demanding obedience. Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. "I think I'll pass."

"Just for that, I'll show you the new delivery I received today." Cora leaned in close, her smile dangerously hungry. "_Now._"

He could keep fighting. Maybe. The pressure was building and building, and Rumplestiltskin had little choice, but there was a slender possibility that he could still get himself out of this—but he did not dare. He'd already pushed as far as Gold ever dared, perhaps further, and unless he wanted to let the cat out of the bag tonight, he had to play along. The curse had found Gold—confused, angry Gold—much easier to manipulate, but the Dark One was another matter. Despite that, he was caught in a trap of his own devising. If he did not want Cora to guess that he remembered, he would have to do as Gold would have done, and that meant going downstairs.

Even if going downstairs meant letting Cora hurt him. She'd planned her caveats well from the beginning, had clearly known exactly what she intended to do even if she hadn't decided on the exact details prior to casting the curse. The first years had been rather vanilla; Cora had been testing her power and content to have a mostly willing Gold in her bed. Gold had withdrawn a little after meeting Lacey—things _did _happen in Storybrooke, although very little actually changed. Time inched along at a glacial rate, but small changes occurred, particularly where Cora was directly involved. And she had driven Gold straight into Lacey's arms once she started hurting him.

After all, Cora didn't want to hurt someone who _liked _it. Where was the power in that? Gold had both hated and feared the pain, and had the curse not held him to her, he would have sent Cora packing. But it did, thus giving Cora an intoxicating hold over the most powerful man in Storybrooke. Upon reflection, Rumplestiltskin realized that was probably why she had agreed to give him power in the first place. Dominating and hurting someone who was already powerless wasn't nearly so sweet as being able to force the powerful 'Mr. Gold' to her will. Particularly when he grew so angry over it, and yet was still helpless to avoid her. All it took was two words, and he found himself back in her bed again.

Lately, however, her interests had grown more daring, more and more painful. Cora had clearly done her research in this Land Without Magic, discovering the many inventions that let her hurt him without leaving a mark. She didn't always limit herself to such things—why bother, when she knew Gold was too proud to turn to anyone for help?—but Cora made a quite thorough study with Gold as her test subject. Over the years, she had both determined what she liked and what he _didn't_, and now she had hurting and frightening him down to a science.

These days it was electricity, metal on sensitive skin and turning the shocks up high enough that there was nothing erotic about it. Cora _liked _watching him writhe and scream in pain, and her basement was soundproofed for a reason. She always made sure to bind him. Cora was too smart to trust her caveats to make him too compliant; Gold had tried to fool her more than once over the years, for all the good it had done him. Even though she always made him pay for such defiance with enough pain to stop him from trying again for quite a while, Cora was still careful, and that meant now Rumplestiltskin was paying the price for his cursed self's clumsy attempts to free himself. Unfortunately, different men though they were, they were still much the same, and what hurt Gold also hurt Rumplestiltskin, and Cora knew how to play his body like a flute.

Several hours later, she left him tied to the bed while she headed upstairs to sleep, shaking and shuddering and wishing he had magic with which to escape her. At the moment, Rumplestiltskin would have even forgone vengeance in favor of getting away; his entire body burned. No matter how many times she hurt him, raped him, and then hurt him again, he would _never _grow used to it.

And the first chance he got—the first chance that did not harm his chances of seeing the curse broken and then finding his son—Rumplestiltskin was going to kill her.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

"Put your feet up, sweetheart."

"I'm _fine_, Rumple." Belle gave him an exasperated look, but obliged anyway, allowing Rumplestiltskin to slip a footrest under her feet. "I just said I was a little bit nauseous this morning, but I feel fine now."

"Well, you can't be too careful," he countered, the knot of worry tied up with love in his stomach refusing to lessen. He'd never imagined this, never even _thought _something so miraculous might happen—

"But you _can _be too smothering," she retorted pointedly.

"Would you like a book to read?" Rumplestiltskin asked, ignoring the remark. "I can get it—"

"My feet work fine!" Belle snapped, but then he saw guilt flash across her beautiful face, and she reached out for his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just bored out of my mind, and you _can _be a little overbearing when you worry."

He knew she was right, and shrugged sheepishly. "I know," Rumplestiltskin admitted softly. "I just love you, and I _do _worry. I—"

Belle stopped him with a finger to his lips as she squeezed his other hand. "I know," she said gently. "But history doesn't have to repeat itself. We'll make _sure _it doesn't. Together."

He loved this woman more than words could express. There were times Rumplestiltskin still wondered what this beautiful young noblewoman saw in him, why Belle stood by him—and came back!—even through his worst moments. She'd even (mostly) managed to understand once he'd told her about the Dark Curse, and Belle had promised to stand by him no matter what. He didn't deserve her at all.

_Rumplestiltskin_.

The voice was a cold whisper in his mind, enough to send shivers down his spine. Years had passed since he had last heard her call; his preparations for the curse wove around her in an intricate web, but Rumplestiltskin had not actually _seen _Cora in years. He'd hardly even thought of the woman since meeting Belle; nowadays, the way she had broken his heart seemed utterly unimportant. Of course, Rumplestiltskin had known he would have to see her eventually, but Cora had not sought him out and he'd had no reason to intrude on her whilst she'd been so busy playing the Evil Queen so well. Her stepdaughter had been on the run for almost two years now, and while Cora seemed content to let Snow hide in the woods (befriending a wolf girl, no less, but Cora didn't know that Snow was making friends who would help her in the future), Rumplestiltskin was happy to leave her be.

Now, however, her call cut through his conversation with Belle, and Rumplestiltskin could not afford to ignore her. Not if he wanted to keep her on track.

"Someone calling?" Belle asked, reading the look on his face.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Cora. I need to go."

"Queen Cora?" his wife echoed, her eyes going a little bit wide. Rumplestiltskin hadn't told her about who he intended to have cast the curse—he was still hoping for Regina, much though she seemed unlikely to comply—and he'd never mentioned Cora in front of his True Love.

"That would be the one. We are…old acquaintances," he explained, not willing to go into too much detail. "I taught her magic."

That was safe enough, wasn't it? Belle didn't need to know the sordid details. He wasn't sure how to explain this to the woman he loved, so rather typically, Rumplestiltskin chose to avoid the important parts instead.

"Oh." She squeezed his hand again, and offered Rumplestiltskin the smile that could bring sunlight onto even the stormiest day. "Then be careful, and hurry home."

"I will," he promised, kissing her hand before he allowed magic to sweep him away.

A simple thought was enough to take him across several kingdoms and into the small, secluded grove that Cora waited in. She had never been the outdoors type, or at least not since becoming a princess and putting such 'low' things behind her, but Cora clearly wanted privacy for this meeting. Since she was as capable of teleporting as he was, even a queen could escape for a few minutes without her guards being any the wiser. Rumplestiltskin knew that Cora would still relish the freedom to do so, even as she reveled in the ultimate power of ruling a kingdom all of her own. Never mind that said kingdom was not hers by right—Cora's power was unquestioned now, and most of her own subjects really did believe that Snow had killed Leopold.

"Queenship looks good on you," Rumplestiltskin commented, appearing behind her and trying to make Cora jump. She didn't, but he knew that he'd startled her, and that counted for something.

Royalty always had flattered Cora, though; Rumplestiltskin had not been making idle compliments. Even as the miller's daughter, she'd possessed a regal bearing that drew men to her, and Cora had lost none of her pride. She was dressed now in reds and blacks, royal to a fault and holding her head high as if the world was beneath her. Queen Cora had carved herself out a fearsome reputation, too; her fellow monarchs were leery of angering her, and her people feared her even more than they hated her. But she smiled when she turned to face him, giving Rumplestiltskin that slight twitch of her lips that meant she was truly happy and not faking the emotion for an audience.

Without her heart, Rumplestiltskin knew that every emotion Cora felt was muted, but she _could _still feel them. If she wanted to. Otherwise, ignoring her emotions, particularly the kinder ones, was undoubtedly easy. That was something she had used to her advantage over the years, he knew. Cora had always prized her detachment.

"Rumple," she said, sweeping forward to close the distance between them. "It's been too long."

"I don't recall our last meeting being nearly so pleasant," he replied, dancing out of her way with a small giggle. All the while, he swept a critical eye over his onetime lover, the woman he once had wanted so desperately to make his wife.

_She doesn't hold a candle to Belle._

"Oh, but that's ancient history," she replied with another of that secretive little smile. "Can you blame a girl for trying?"

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that to get my dagger, dearie," Rumplestiltskin retorted. "You don't have _nearly _enough power to take it from me."

"I don't want to," Cora said bluntly, making his eyebrows go up in surprise. "Betraying your trust like that was a mistake, one I'd like to make up for. And even apologize, if you'll let me."

For a long moment, he could do nothing more than stare at her rather stupidly. "I didn't think you_ did _apologies very well."

"I don't. But I'll try, for you."

Rumplestiltskin blinked. Hard.

When he said nothing, Cora stepped forward to take his hand. She had always been bold, and she'd once—years ago—seduced him rather thoroughly. He'd not exactly been innocent, of course; Rumplestiltskin had jumped in head first and had gleefully taken everything she had to offer. The months he'd spent with her had been some of the best in his life before he'd met Belle, and Rumplestiltskin had spent them utterly drunk on darkness and lust. Cora had been such a toxic influence on him, had encouraged him to be worse than he had been save in his earliest days as the Dark One, but Rumplestiltskin had been too in love to care.

"I _am _sorry, Rumple," she said softly, persuasively. "I should not have tried to take your dagger. And…I should not have left you the way I did."

That made him swallow. He had not expected such honest emotion from her. Rumplestiltskin knew her well enough to know when Cora was lying, and here she seemed genuine. "It's a little late for regrets, dear," he finally managed, but the words were not as harsh as he wanted them to be. A corner of his dark heart would probably always belong to Cora.

"Will you accept my apology?" Cora asked, and then smiled self-depreciatingly. "I'm not terribly good at groveling, but I will try if I must."

"There's no need for that," Rumplestiltskin snapped awkwardly. He had never liked women who debased themselves, and could not imagine Cora doing so. Even poor, she'd been proud. "I—I accept your apology."

Peace between them was better, after all. That might make Cora less dangerous after she cast the curse, and anything that decreased Cora's unpredictability was a good thing. He could sacrifice a little pride for that—or for anything that got him a step closer to finding Baelfire.

"Thank you," she replied, and her smile was blindingly beautiful.

Rumplestiltskin had to get this conversation back on track; it was going places he had not expected, places that made him uncomfortable. Somehow, he had to regain control. He cleared his throat, trying not to show his unease.

"What did you want, Cora?" he asked bluntly. "I doubt you called me for this."

"But I did. I miss you, Rumple. I miss _us._"

His jaw almost dropped. For years, he would have given almost anything to hear an apology from her, to hear the invitation now in her voice. He had been so damn _lonely_, so broken, and _now _Cora offered him this? While he stared, she continued:

"My husband is dead. I am the undisputed queen in this kingdom, and no one can tell me what I can or cannot do. I am tired of choosing worldly power. I want love."

"Couldn't find another king to wed, then?" The words came out before Rumplestiltskin fully thought of them, but he didn't regret them. He could bend enough to accept her apology, but this was too damned much.

"I suppose I deserved that," she replied philosophically. It was an impressive display of self-control, one he hadn't anticipated, and Rumplestiltskin flashed her a hard smile, all black teeth and fury.

"That and more," he snapped, yanking his hand out of hers. "I'm not some toy to be discarded and picked up at your whim, Cora."

"We _were_ good together. And I know how much you loved me."

"So good you ripped your heart out, eh?" His hand flashed out to wrap around her neck as Rumplestiltskin ignored the second sentence; he had loved Cora, but she had hurt him too badly, and even if he _hadn't _been in love with Belle—_married _to Belle—he would like to think that he would not have lost enough self-esteem to take her up on her offer.

"I regret that!" Cora squeaked, obviously taken aback by the physical assault. Rage began to build in her eyes immediately, but Rumplestiltskin saw her force it back and adopt a more conciliatory tone. "I understand that you're angry. You have every right to be. But I am being _truthful_, Rumple. I chose power, and I was wrong."

Her hand came up to touch the scaled one wrapped around her neck, and Rumplestiltskin let go, pushing her away as if her touch burned him. He snarled in fury. "It's amazing how you come to that conclusion _after _your ambitions are realized, _Your Majesty_."

"I know I hurt you. I can't change that, but I can put my—"

"You missed your chance," Rumplestiltskin cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest. "I'm not interested in you. Not anymore."

A corner of his mind—the ever calculating one, the one that put the pieces of every puzzle together to meet his ends—told Rumplestiltskin that perhaps he should let her down more gently. Oh, he shouldn't tell her that he had found someone else, because Cora had always been the jealous type, but perhaps he should be kinder. But it was too late for that. He was too angry, and yes, too hurt, by her past actions. Cora might mean what she said _now_, but in the end, her ambition would always win.

"Of course you are." Now Cora went cold, and he could see her anger masking her wounded pride. _And that's all that's wounded: her pride. She'll never allow anyone to break her heart, so why should _I _care for her feelings? She barely feels them._

So he laughed at her, high-pitched and harsh. "Oh, no. I'm not going to be your next road to power, dearie, and I don't want you back. Go find someone else to manipulate with your smiles and your pretty apologies."

"I was not trying to manipulate you." Her back straightened and her eyes flashed; danger rumbled along with the slight gust of magically-driven wind around them. "I was being honest with you. And you'll regret rejecting me, Rumplestiltskin."

"I doubt that." _And now you know how it feels_, he had enough sense not to say. Rumplestiltskin was sure Cora heard the words, anyway.

His magic swept him away before she could respond, taking him home to Belle, to a woman who gave him peace instead of power, love instead of ambition. Once, he would have been so terribly tempted by Cora's offer. Once, he might have been weak enough to give in and fall for her all over again. But Belle made him stronger, and she was the woman Rumplestiltskin loved.

* * *

><p>Rumplestiltskin went home instead of to the shop the next morning, in desperate need of a hot shower to wash away Cora's touch. He stayed under the stream for a long while, waiting for his shaking to stop and trying to will himself back under control. This wasn't the first time that Cora had been quite this creatively vindictive, nor was it the worst, but the previous night had been damn close to the later. He didn't care if he opened the shop late today, didn't care what people thought of him. Rumplestiltskin needed some time to compose himself.<p>

Finally, he pulled himself out of the shower and gingerly dried himself off. Cora's repeated electric shocks hadn't left a permanent mark, but his skin was red and inflamed everywhere she'd targeted and hurt to touch. Just the act of getting dressed almost left him in tears, but he wasn't going to hide. No matter how much he _burned _to stay home today and shut out the world, he had work to do. There was a curse needing to be broken, and Rumplestiltskin would be damned if he was going to give Cora one moment of victory longer than necessary. He had originally intended to shepherd the Savior along in order to speed up the process; the faster the curse was broken, the faster he could find his son. But now, however, Rumplestiltskin had far greater motivation. He wanted to shove Cora's revenge down her throat and make her pay.

The phone ringing interrupted his pleasant thoughts of vengeance, and his heart sank. Picking up the phone without even looking at the number—because he knew who it had to be—Rumplestiltskin snapped: "What now?"

"Gold?" Belle's soft voice asked, making his heart constrict painfully.

"Yeah," he breathed, wanting to hang up on her but unable to make himself. Just hearing her voice was a balm for his wounds, and he _needed _Belle.

_Lacey, _Rumplestiltskin reminded himself. _She's still Lacey, and you need to keep her safe._

"She was worse than usual, wasn't she?"

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. Even Lacey knew him far too well, knew how to tell when he was hurting and how bad things were just from the tone of his voice. She was the only one in the whole of Storybrooke that knew what Cora's 'habits' consisted of, and even then she knew more from inference than from Gold actually telling her. But Lacey _was _Belle, deep down, which meant she understood him in ways that even she couldn't voice.

"A little," he finally answered, by which either Belle or Lacey knew he meant _a lot._

"Do you want me to come over?" she asked, and then continued too quickly for him to get a word in edgewise. "Or I could meet you at the shop. You don't have to deal with this alone. I—"

"Sweetheart, no," Rumplestiltskin cut her off, biting his lip hard to keep himself from telling her yes. He needed her so badly, but he couldn't indulge that need. There was too much at stake. "Cora…Cora's likely to notice if you do. And I need you to be safe."

"She can't hurt me, Gold. I don't know why you _let_ her."

"She can. She will. Please, Lacey." It was an absolutely inadequate explanation, and Rumplestiltskin knew it. But Storybrooke was a dangerous place. People who had displeased Cora had been known to disappear, and he was _not _going to add Belle to that list. Even Gold hadn't been able to figure out where the others went. His voice dropped to a ragged whisper: "Just stay away from me."

"Gold—"

He hung up.

He had to, otherwise he would have given in and risked everything to see her, to listen to Belle, Lacey, or whoever she was tell him everything would be all right. Rumplestiltskin knew his own weaknesses and he knew himself. Given half a chance, he would take the coward's way out, and right now he had more important things than himself to protect. He'd never been strong, but he _had _to be now, or at least pretend he was. Otherwise everything would go to pieces.

Closing his eyes tightly on tears, Rumplestiltskin forced himself to his feet and got on with his day.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! It's making me write so much faster than I would otherwise. For those of you who think Jefferson is a creep—well, he is, but it's not his fault. That's all the curse, just like all the awkward matchups we see are, including Gold/Cora._

_Stay tuned for Chapter Six: "Power is Freedom", where Regina meets Errol Forrester (Robin Hood) for the first time and turns to Rumplestiltskin for help in both the past and the present._


	6. Chapter 6: Power is Freedom

_**Chapter Six—"Power is Freedom"**_

* * *

><p><span><em>13 Years Before the Curse<em>

"It's an honor to meet you, Princess," George's handsome son said, bowing and kissing her hand. Smiling graciously, Regina tried not to grimace. Good looking or not, the boy was only two years older than Snow, which made him six years younger than her.

Not that her mother felt such an age gap was insurmountable, of course. Cora wanted to make her a queen, and as far as she was concerned, this boy was just a means to that end.

"Prince James," she replied, taking her hand back as soon as she could. "Welcome to our kingdom."

The fourteen year old prince in front of her moved on to Snow—who should have taken precedence over Regina in any case, kissing her hand with considerably more warmth. Not that Regina could blame him. Snow was already a beauty, and _she _was the heir to the kingdom. Not Regina. _No matter what Mother is trying terribly hard to imply by having me stand right after her and Leopold in the receiving line. Snow's the real princess here, and Mother just looks petty because she's trying to cover that up._

"Princess Snow. I have long wanted to make your acquaintance," James said, lingering over her hand.

Snow had been raised for this, so she didn't blink or blush, but Regina thought she saw a little bit of color enter her sister's cheeks. Having a handsome prince fawn over her had to be flattering, particularly because Snow was now old enough to actually notice. She'd started giggling about handsome young men a few months earlier, and Regina could tell that James had caught her eye. Judging from the gleam in the young prince's eye, he realized that as well, and Regina scowled at James when her mother wasn't looking. He'd obviously broken more than a few hearts already, and she wasn't going to have him adding Snow to that list.

King George looked equally pleased as the receiving line finally ended and with it their official duties. For the moment, anyway. Regina knew she and Snow would not be able to sneak off for long, not with George looking to marry James off to Snow and Cora looking to snag the boy for Regina. But for the moment, they were free to sit down in their seats on the dais and whisper with one another, particularly because Cora was still making her rounds while Leopold tagged alongside her like a lost puppy.

"You think he's handsome," Regina teased her little sister.

Now Snow did color slightly. "Most princes are. I think that they're enchanted to be handsome while still in the womb."

"Is that what happened to you?" she countered with a grin.

"I never asked." Snow managed a very royal shrug before she burst into giggles, and Regina laughed with her.

"Can you cover for me?" she asked, the words coming out in a rush. Regina had to speak quickly, had to get it out while Cora was engrossed with talking to King George. "Just for a few minutes?" she pleaded.

"Regina, this is a _terrible_ idea…"

"I have to. Snow, please. This might be the only chance I get. Everyone is here, even Mother's closest henchmen…and I have to see him."

Almost five months had passed since Cora had let Regina see Daniel, and although she'd promised to let Regina see her True Love if she behaved herself, that promise was starting to wear really thin. Regina was desperate to see Daniel, particularly if she was going to find herself packed off to become a broodmare for some petty princeling before too many more years passed. There had to be a way to save Daniel, but in order to do that, Regina had to get down there and look at where Daniel was kept, and not when her mother was in control of the situation.

"Regina…"

"Please." She hated begging, but she would do it for Daniel. Snow must have seen that on her face, because her sister sighed.

"Fine. I'll come up with a distraction of some sort," Snow said bravely, bouncing out of her chair and heading over to her father. On the way there, she managed to artfully bump right into some noble from King George's kingdom, tripping him (and his wife, somehow) so that he fell into Cora and George, who were still talking.

Cora snarled in fury, but Regina didn't stay to watch her mother's reaction. Queen Cora would have to be gracious and accept that noble's apology; after all, one could hardly turn nobles into small creatures and squash them when you were a queen. Cora was big on propriety, had always hammered proper behavior into Regina. She could hardly act anything less than the part of the perfect queen, particularly when her 'dear' stepdaughter was apologizing so prettily. Snow was an expert at using those big eyes of hers to look innocent and pure—which she usually was, anyway—and Cora couldn't call her on it in front of an audience, even if she did suspect something. Fortunately, Cora didn't seem suspicious at all, which was even better.

The scene didn't take long to play out, but it was more than enough time for Regina to slip out of the reception and head down to the dungeons. She wasn't supposed to know where these cells were—Cora allowed her to meet with Daniel elsewhere—but Regina had managed to bribe two guards into telling her the truth some weeks earlier. So she slipped down four flights of stairs and into the bowels of the castle, down below where even the most dangerous prisoners were officially kept. The deepest layer didn't officially exist, but Regina knew where to go and had only been waiting for the right time to do it. Fortunately, the way down to the prison was quiet; even most of the guards were off celebrating, and those that did see Regina did not question her.

The final gate was one that even the guards were not allowed to pass; magic brought Daniel food, and the gate was guarded by blood magic. But although Regina might not have known how to work magic, she understood blood magic well enough, and she quickly pricked her finger on a hairpin and pressed it to the lock. The heavy metal door obligingly swung open, and Regina sprinted through to the end.

"Daniel!"

A moment passed before a scratchy voice answered from the darkness: "Regina?"

"Oh, Daniel." For a long moment, she didn't know what else to say; she could only reach desperately through the bars and grope blindly for his hands. Fingers closed around hers before Regina's eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness, but when they finally did, she could see his face.

He was far too thin and needed a shave, but there was nothing about those features she did not find beautiful. Regina was sure that her smile was utterly stupid and besotted, but she _loved _him, and she had not seen him in so long.

"You shouldn't be here," he told her quietly.

"I can't just leave you down here!"

"You can't do anything for me, either. The Queen is too powerful," Daniel countered, sounding too defeated for Regina's tastes. So she squeezed his hands desperately.

"I'll find something," she promised. "I love you. I won't abandon you, no matter what."

"I love you, too," he said softly, and Regina felt lips press against her hands. She didn't care if he was dirty—and he was—or that she'd have to wash up before going back to the reception. Any stolen moment with Daniel was worth its weight in gold, and Regina was going to treasure every second. "And I believe in you," Daniel finished.

"I'll find a way," Regina repeated, pressing her forehead against the bars.

"I know."

"How adorable," a third voice cooed, and Regina whirled around, almost tripping over her ornate dress in her haste. "But certainly unworthy of you, darling."

"Mother." She said the word as steadily as she could, but her voice still tried to shake.

"Regina, dearest, the dungeon is no place for a princess," Cora said as if she had no idea why Regina was there, looking far too beautifully put together and regal for the dank and dark dungeons.

"I'm not actually a princess," she shot back, Daniel's presence giving her strength. Fingers squeezed her right hand; Regina had turned to her left, so she'd had to let go with that hand, but Daniel still held her right in his.

"You will be once you marry the prince I have chosen for you," her mother replied serenely.

"I already _have _a husband, and that stupid prince isn't interested in me, anyway!"

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Regina knew she should not have said them. Speaking of her short-lived marriage to Daniel always infuriated her mother, and Regina had learned three years ago not to mention it at all. Sure enough, Cora's eyes narrowed, and then suddenly her hand came up. Before Regina could even begin to object, a purple spark flashed out of her mother's palm, sailing by Regina and impacting Daniel. The force of the spell ripped his hand from hers and made Regina's beloved howl in pain as he hit the back of the cell hard.

"Daniel!" Regina cried, turning to face him once more as he twitched wildly, collapsed into a ball on the floor. Another purple spark hit him, and Daniel screamed. Almost too stunned for words, Regina wheeled back to face her mother. "Mother, please!"

Cora's dark eyes were unmoved. "You've brought this on yourself, Regina. I did warn you."

Daniel screamed again as another spell hit him, and Regina reached for her mother's arm desperately.

"Please. I'll behave. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt him anymore," she begged.

"Regina, don't…" a voice from inside the spell whispered, only to be cut off by another scream as Cora flicked another spark his way.

"Do not interrupt conversations between your betters, stable boy," the Queen said imperiously, and then turned back to Regina, who had almost said something regrettable about how Daniel was a far better person than her mother could ever _hope _to be, but stopped herself just in time. "Now, darling, we will be missed at the reception if we do not return. Come."

Cora turned to walk away, but Regina was rooted to the spot, staring helplessly at her True Love as he laboriously dragged himself into a sitting position. Daniel tried to smile for her, but the effort turned into a painful grimace. He was breathing hard and obviously still hurting; what _had _Cora done to him? Regina had never hated magic as much as she did in that moment.

"Please stop hurting him," she whispered.

"Oh, I have," Cora replied dismissively, looking over her shoulder. "But let this be a lesson to you. I obviously cannot trust you to behave yourself without proper motivation, so any further acts of defiance will be punished accordingly."

"It's not Daniel's fault!"

"Of course it isn't. It's yours. Now come along, unless I need to repeat the lesson."

"No." The word was a broken whisper, and Regina followed her mother back to the reception.

* * *

><p>The next morning, October 27th, dawned gray and foreboding, with storm clouds gathering overhead to match her mood. Regina woke stiff, sore, and grouchy; finding reasons to reject David's advances was growing more difficult by the day. <em>His <em>cursed memories insisted that they were more or less happily married, but Regina knew that the man in her bed (dressed in pajamas, thank you very much) was her brother-in-law and the love of her little sister's life. She wasn't sure she could forgive herself for what had taken place between them under the curse, but Regina _knew _she'd never forgive herself if she slept with David now that she knew.

Not that she wanted to. Strong, heroic princes had never been her type, even when they were the identical twin of the _actual _cocky prince that David had replaced some years ago. Of course, that little tidbit had been late in getting to their disjointed family. George had seemed to think he could easily substitute one for the other since it had been years since anyone in Leopold's kingdom had seen James, but Snow and Regina had both noticed the differences immediately. They just hadn't known why "James" was so different than the first two times they'd met him, with self-absorption replaced by modest and actual charm. There had been an immediate spark between the new James and Snow, which had meant Regina did her best to step aside, despite her mother's plotting. Regina had liked him a great deal better after the swap, too, even if she'd still been holding out hope for Daniel, and she still _liked _him. As a person. Not a lover, and certainly not as her husband.

As far as Regina was concerned, she didn't have one of those.

Those thoughts kept her mood foul throughout the morning, and the fact that the door was locked when she dropped by Gold's shop on the way to work only made things more annoying. She needed to talk to Rumplestiltskin, so where the hell was he? Thankfully, his car had not been outside her mother's house when Regina drove past—and _that _was a relationship she wanted to know absolutely nothing about, thank you very much—but the bastard was nowhere to be found. It wasn't rent day, and he never slept in, so what was he doing? Regina needed advice, and he was supposed to be the one running this damn show. Except for the fact that he wasn't around.

So, she headed to work in the same crummy mood, snapping at worker bees in a fashion that was certain to make her mother proud. She'd forgotten her lunch at home in her rush to get out the door in time to talk to Gold, but Regina chose not to drive back and get it. Instead, she walked out of city hall and headed towards the center of town. The weather had improved remarkably since storms had threatened that morning, and now the sun was starting to peek out of the clouds again. It was a nice day for a walk, and she could always stop by the damn imp's shop again and strangle him while she was out and about—

Movement caught her attention, and Regina turned her head idly to see what it was she had spotted out of the corner of her eye. She'd figured it would be a car or someone walking by, but what she hadn't expected was the cute, dark-haired little boy darting out into the street after a ball that he'd clearly dropped. It was small and blue, and rolling too quickly for a three year old to keep up with, try though he did, his short legs pumping to catch up. There was a truck coming, too, a big red pickup that she was pretty sure was owned by that obnoxious deputy sheriff, Keith Law, and its owner was equally oblivious. As usual, Keith blew through the stop sign, and no one was _doing _anything while his truck bore down on a little boy.

Without thinking, Regina rushed forward, grabbing the boy and pulling him aside even as Keith's truck sped by. She had to fling them away so quickly that Regina tripped on a pot mark in the pavement, breaking the heel of her shoe and tumbling to the ground. She didn't quite manage to let go of the child as she fell, but at least she took most of the impact, groaning while the little boy yelped in pain. By the time she managed to sit up, the boy was staring at her with wide eyes and a blonde man was standing over both of them.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He seemed to be asking both of them, but Regina's voice caught in her throat.

"Uh huh." The boy nodded, and the man swept him up in a hug, holding him close for several moments.

"What have I told you about rushing out into traffic, Jamie?" the man said in the tone of someone who had just almost lost everything they'd ever loved. "Next time, _I'll _get your ball. Don't you ever do that again!"

"Sorry, Daddy," the little boy—Jamie—answered.

"I'm just glad you're all right," he breathed, and then looked down at Regina. "I'm sorry. I've completely forgotten my manners. _Thank you._ You saved my son's life. I can't ever repay you."

"I…uh, it was nothing," Regina managed to say, struggling to her feet and finding that balancing on only one heel was difficult. She had to look a frightful mess by now; her business suit was dirty and she'd managed to skin one knee, but the man was still looking at her like she was some sort of angel. "I have a son, too," she said with rather more composure. "And he did the same sort of thing at that age."

The blonde man smiled. "I think I did, too," he admitted, then shifted Jamie over to one arm and held out his hand to her. "I don't think we've met. Errol Forrester."

"Regina Nolan," she replied, accepting his hand to shake and wondering who he reminded her of. She was certain she'd never met Errol Forrester before, and she had no idea at all who he really was, but he seemed vaguely familiar, somehow.

"I think everyone knows who you are," he said with a sheepish smile, but at least it wasn't one that said he hated her for who her mother was. Cora wasn't a popular mayor; people feared and respected her, but no one actually _liked _her. Not that it mattered. They all remembered electing her anyway.

"I'm sorry," Regina said automatically.

"Don't be!" Errol protested. "I just meant…ah, hell, I'm terrible at this."

"Daddy said a bad word," Jamie interjected helpfully, and that seemed to break the ice. They laughed together as Errol went a little red in either frustration or embarrassment, and a traitorous part of Regina's mind thought he was rather cute when he did that.

"Yeah, Daddy did do that. You're not supposed to notice that, kiddo," Errol laughed, and then looked back at Regina. "Now that I've thoroughly shoved my foot down my throat, may I buy you lunch?"

"I couldn't," she tried to say, but he waved her off.

"You just saved my son's life. Buying you lunch is the least I can do," he pointed out, and Regina found herself smiling in response.

"Oh…all right," she gave in. "Though I think I may need to go home to get new shoes first."

"Who needs shoes? If Granny argues, I'll just tell her that we won't put out her next kitchen fire. Happens pretty often when she lets Ruby cook," Errol replied with a huge grin.

"You put out fires?"

"Yeah. It's kind of what firefighters do." He gestured at her shoes. "C'mon, live a little. Just take them off and come along. I'd offer you Jamie's shoes, but I think they're a bit small for you."

Regina couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so freely, or when she'd been so daring—or so improper!—as to walk into a diner without any shoes on. By the time she was done with that, her stockings were going to be ruined, but Regina found she just didn't care. Errol's grin was infectious, and he did indeed threaten not to put out any fires at the diner if Granny complained about Regina's lack of shoes. Under normal circumstances, Regina was quite certain that Granny _would _have made an issue of it, but Errol seemed more popular there than Cora was hated. Surprisingly, Granny let it slide, only giving Regina a half-hearted glare and telling her not to let it happen again.

Regina promised not to, and found lunch surprisingly pleasant. Jamie was downright adorable, shyer than Henry had been at his age but still a very engaging child who loved to draw on any placemat at the table. Errol was sweet, funny, and altogether too grateful to Regina for doing what any mother would have done…and she felt something flicker inside her that she had thought dead and gone. She knew it was foolish, and even dangerous—the man sitting across from her was under the _curse_. Whoever he was now as much of a lie as her marriage was, and for all Regina knew, he might have been an axe murderer back in the Enchanted Forest. _Or a stable boy._

Pushing that traitorous thought aside, Regina concentrated on her lunch and somehow still managed to enjoy herself. But she couldn't indulge herself too far. The Dark Curse was still plenty strong, and she had introduced herself as Regina Nolan. She and Errol were both living lies, and their paths would probably never cross again.

* * *

><p>Her unplanned lunch date made Regina reach Gold's pawnshop much later than she intended. She was damn glad that her mother had an afternoon full of meetings scheduled, otherwise Cora might have noticed that her daughterchief administrative officer was absent from city hall. But Cora always held all of her meetings on Fridays, and that meant Regina had considerably more freedom than usual. _Pity I'm using that freedom to visit Rumplestiltskin, _she thought wryly, but with no real rancor. Rumplestiltskin had always been there when no one else was, and although there were times that she burned to ring the imp's gold-flecked neck, Regina was glad she wasn't the only one awake.

Had she been alone, looking at the faces of old friends and family who didn't know her, Regina was sure she would have gone mad. Five days into pretending that she to be just Regina Nolan was hard enough.

"This grand plan of yours is growing distinctly unpleasant," she announced by way of greeting. Behind her, the door clanged shut, the little bell jingling merrily.

"Well, I'm ever so sorry to make you uncomfortable," Rumplestiltskin replied with all of Gold's sarcasm. "But I did warn you that this wouldn't be easy."

"Your explanation was a little short on actual details," Regina snapped, and waited for the annoying, trilling giggle that never came.

She had never expected her old mentor to be so _different _here.

"Need to know, dearie, and you didn't," he answered. At least he was still maddeningly vague. Her mother's curse might have made Rumplestiltskin human, but knowing some things were the same was definitely a comfort.

Still, she glared at him, anyway. "Yet I'm the one with the Savior staying in my guest bedroom. So, what's the next step, O Mastermind?"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly. "First, we have to make her believe. Has young Henry shown her his book yet?"

"How the hell do you know about that?" Regina had toldHenry to be careful, and she thought he understood that if Cora got the Book, everything could go up in flames. Had Henry misunderstood and shared it with half the town already?

Rumplestiltskin only smiled, and _there _was the imp lurking in his oddly normal brown eyes.

Regina sighed. He wasn't going to answer, so she went on: "Of course he showed her. I think he started talking about the curse before they even got to Storybrooke. She doesn't believe him."

"Of course she doesn't. Does she believe _you_?"

"I haven't tried." She scowled. "Emma is as stubborn as a mule. Believing in 'fairy tales' is not going to come easily to her, and as much as I'm usually a firm believer in shoving the truth down peoples' throats, I think that'll be counterproductive here. Hell, I'm still worried that she'll leave at the end of the week."

At least that finally made Rumplestiltskin frown. "You can trust the curse to keep her here. It wants to be broken," he said contemplatively. "The trick is making her want to."

"There's an opening for a sheriff's deputy." The idea hit Regina like lightning, and the words came out before she even thought about them. But there _was _an opening. Graham only had one deputy, and the law said he could have two. And Emma didhave a background that actually made her qualified for the job. "I'm having lunch with Graham tomorrow."

"The idea has merit," he mused. "But don't forget that your mother has his heart."

How could she forget that? Regina had been present for that travesty. Still, this was Storybrooke, not the Enchanted Forest. There were advantages to being in the Land Without Magic. "Graham doesn't know that," she pointed out. "I think he'll like Emma, too, once he gets to know her, and besides, Mother is far more interested in you than him these days."

"Indeed." Barely a flicker of discomfort flashed across his face, but Rumplestiltskin could handle himself. They also both knew that a more distracted Cora was far safer for everyone, so Regina didn't comment. It was his business, anyway. Every day that she failed to realize Emma could break the curse was a victory.

"I'll put the bug in Graham's ear, then."

"You should also set her up with somewhere to live other than in your house. Get her to put down roots, become an upstanding member of the community and all."

That made Regina grimace. The thought of sending Emma elsewhere was _not _something Regina wanted to contemplate. Oh, her niece drove her absolutely crazy and they'd already had several explosive spats, but at least Regina could keep an eye on her this way. She'd failed to save her little sister from her mother, and she would not do the same for Snow's daughter. The least Regina could do was protect Emma, and that was far easier with Emma under her roof. Still, Rumplestiltskin was right. Emma wasn't a child—even if it was odd seeing her a bit older than Snow—and she needed a place of her own. Cora would even notice her far less if she didn't live with Regina, and that was reason enough. Gritting her teeth, Regina asked:

"Do you have any suitable apartments, then?"

_Now _the crafty old smile resurfaced. "I understand that Mary Margaret Blanchard is looking for a roommate."

"She is?"

"Her bills are quite piling up."

"And whose fault is _that_?" Regina demanded.

"I trust you're not blaming me for situations your mother set up with the curse, given your own present position," he retorted smoothly, making Regina's scowl deepen.

"Damn you," she swore, and then nodded grudgingly. "Fine. I'll point her in that direction.

"And while you're at it, may I suggest that you take the opportunity to reacquaint yourself with your sister?" Rumplestiltskin said with a thin smile. "After all, you or your 'husband' will undoubtedly take Henry over to visit his birth mother from time to time."

Damn the man, he _was _brilliant. Regina hated him as much as she trusted him sometimes, but the genius of his plan was obvious. They both knew that people would begin inching towards their true selves the longer Emma was in town. That meant that timid Mary Margaret would slowly become more like Snow, and David would undoubtedly be attracted to her. _True Love always wins out, after all, _she thought with a pang of pain. Still, David falling for Mary Margaret could free Regina from her awkward false marriage, _and _let her spend time with the sister she missed so much. That wasn't even counting the many benefits of acquainting Emma with her mother, which would be good for all of them in the long run.

Maybe she'd even be able to put her shattered family back together.

Someday.

* * *

><p><span><em>13 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Rumplesh... Stilts... Rumpleschtiltskin, I summon thee."

The words reached him immediately, and although he would usually have ignored someone who butchered his name so thoroughly, Rumplestiltskin had been waiting for this call for far too long. Originally, he had expected it over a year ago, but the future did have a habit of changing. So, he appeared in a swirl of purple smoke behind the dark-haired princess, saying:

"That's not how you say it, dearie, but then...you didn't have to say anything."

She spun to face him, shocked and curious all at the same time. Regina peered at him, looking fascinated. "What _are _you?"

"What? What? _What?_ My, my, what a rude question. I am not a what," he tittered, pretending to be offended just to see how she would react. Cora would have thrown her chin up and answered arrogantly; her daughter flushed with embarrassment. But her eyes were kind, perhaps too kind.

"Sorry. I don't really know what I'm doing," she admitted.

That made him smile and offer her an exaggerated bow. "Allow me to introduce myself: Rumplestiltskin." He rolled the word off his tongue to make it sound even more exotic; there were times when having such a showy name was its own reward. Other times, it was just annoying. But after this long, he was used to it, and Rumplestiltskin would use whatever tools he had at hand.

She curtseyed, bless her innocent little soul. "And I'm—"

"Regina. I know."

"You do?"

"But of course." _Let's see what she makes of that. Which parent _did _she inherit her intelligence from?_ Looking at the girl was a bit bittersweet; perhaps that was why he was toying with her so. But Rumplestiltskin wouldn't ever forget that Regina might very well have been—_should _have been—his daughter, had Cora not broken their deal. He would have loved her, he thought. That smile would probably have done him in as a parent.

"Because of my mother," she replied immediately, and yes she was indeed sharp. "Cora. You taught her?"

That made his smile sharper and less playful; thinking of Cora's betrayal still burned over twenty years later. Still, Cora had taught him several valuable lessons, and he _had _intended to have his revenge upon her through the girl in front of him. Then, of course, Regina had managed to change that by running away, although Rumplestiltskin had thought he could get things back on track until this very moment. Looking at her, however, told him otherwise. He could probably corrupt her, but—no. Instead, he swallowed his fury and twirled his hands in a flourish. "My legend precedes me!"

"People say I look like her when she was younger," the princess offered, a little hesitantly.

"Really?" he said slowly, studying the girl who he had once been so certain would cast his curse…and now he knew would not. She wore her broken heart on her sleeve, Regina did, though she had no idea how much strength that gave her. Yet. "I don't see it."

The silly girl—strong though she was, she didn't know that, and thus her courage sometimes failed her in ways her mother's never would—looked a little disappointed. Still, she asked boldly enough: "What do you see?"

_I see Cora casting my curse, _Rumplestiltskin didn't say, pushing aside the images dancing through his mind. He could look at the future later. For now, he needed to _influence _the future.

"Power," he answered honestly enough, prowling a circle around the princess and then giggling, just to see if it would unnerve her. "Yes, yes. You'll do."

"I'll do for what?" Cora's daughter demanded, sounding distinctly like her mother. "I called you here to ask you for your help."

Oh, she _was_ brave. That was good. Regina wasn't bitter enough, despite her True Love's imprisonment, to fully embrace darkness. She loved her sister too strongly, and Rumplestiltskin had joined the game far too late if he wanted to craft her into his perfect monster. No matter. Cora would do well enough; she had been the one to derail his original path, anyway, when she'd married Leopold. Let her play the Evil Queen. He didn't particularly _want _to use Cora, but Rumplestiltskin had always known that he would have to be flexible to pull this off. Regina would fill a different role; he was starting to See that already.

"Of course you did, dear," he replied with an excited little wiggle. At least this wouldn't be boring, and it was revenge on Cora, too, of a sort. "Let me guess. You want help freeing your _Twuu Luv_."

"How did you know about that?" the princess demanded hotly.

He shrugged. "I know your mother."

And he did. The only thing Cora would have viewed as lower than a stable boy would have been some miller's son. Rumplestiltskin remembered her telling him some story about the first boy she'd fallen for. His father had owned a stable, and his family had been relatively well off. Compared to being the daughter of a drunk miller who hardly ever met his quotas, that boy's circumstances had seemed like paradise to a fifteen year old Cora, and she'd tried hard to win him. Of course, when the stable owner went to talk to her drunk father, the miller snored through the conversation and did Cora no favors, which meant the boy she'd wanted wound up marrying the second daughter of the local innkeeper, and Cora got nothing. Daniel had nothing to do with that—he wasn't even from the same kingdom—but she'd still hold that against him. Cora was good with grudges.

"Oh. I was actually going to ask for your help in getting rid of the enchantments put on my stepfather," Regina said softly.

My. _That _was interesting! Regina had indeed come to love that little stepsister of hers, the one girl he had foreseen Regina swearing vengeance upon in a future that would now never happen. That certainly changed things, changed _Regina, _and Rumplestiltskin made a snap decision to tell the truth. Or most of it, anyway.

"I can't help with that, Princess. Those spells have been on King Leopold for too long and are in too deep. Your mother holds their strings, and there are precious few ways to release him short of killing her."

He half-hoped Regina would jump on that, but not this gentle girl. She blanched. "Surely there has to be another way!"

"Not at a price you're willing to pay," Rumplestiltskin answered, then swung to point a finger at Regina. "But I can do one better than that, and maybe even give you the chance to save your stable boy as well."

"How?" she demanded, all focus and determination. And power. Oh, there was a lot of power there. Regina would rival her mother someday, if she let herself. If he could convince her to.

"Your mother wants you to learn magic, no?" he asked, bouncing forward to look her in the eye, his face close to hers. Regina recoiled slightly, but whether that was because of his looks or what he had said, Rumplestiltskin did not know.

"I don't like magic. Magic hurts people." And that was a _yes _to his question if nothing else was.

"It doesn't have to." Odd how he found himself reassuring the girl, but it was necessary. She wasn't his daughter and never would be; Regina was just another puzzle piece.

"Mother wouldn't teach me anything that doesn't," she pointed out.

"Of course she won't. That's where I come in," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile, stepping back and giving Regina space to think. "Tell your mother to teach you. And then I'll fill in the gaps that she leaves."

The princess bit her lip, and spoke hesitantly: "Do you really think it will help me rescue Daniel?"

"You never know."

Of course, Rumplestiltskin would have bet nearly anything on Cora not allowing her daughter's True Love to escape under any circumstances, but stranger things had happened. Regina had enough potential that she _could _possibly take her mother on and win, someday. Provided she was willing to risk her stable boy to do just that, of course, which Rumplestiltskin didn't think she was. Anything could happen, but at the moment, what was important was that she learned magic. Everything after that was a jumble he'd have to sort out later. But Regina was going to be his wildcard—he knew that much already—and for that, he needed her to become a sorceress.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Wow! This is the longest chapter yet – so much for me trying to keep them short for this story. Also, thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed! I'm glad you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing. Now here's my question to you: what *do* you think has happened to Daniel in the past? And how is Snow having met James before David going to change things?_

_Next up is Chapter Seven: "Where You Belong", in which Cora calls on an old acquaintance for assistance, Emma wakes up in jail, and Rumplestiltskin's plans start to bear fruit. In the past, Belle meets the Huntsman._


	7. Chapter 7: Where You Belong

_**Chapter Seven—"Where You Belong"**_

* * *

><p>The clock had started moving five days ago, and something was certainly going on. Cora was no fool; the fact that her grandson's birth mother had shown up just the day before time started moving was clearly no coincidence, although she was not yet sure what that meant. Was the mere presence of an outsider enough to start time moving now that 28 years had passed? Certainly the first two outsiders to find Storybrooke—the only ones prior to Emma Swan—had not been such a threat. Kurt and Owen Flynn had been easy enough to dispose of; she sent Hook—or Cyril O'Malley, as he was known here—to kill them, and both were still wherever he had buried them in the woods. Usually, she would have chosen Graham for such a task, but her Huntsman was such a soft creature. There would be no erasing his memory in this world, even with the curse to back her, so she chose not to use his heart to force him. The good captain, however, was more than happy to help. Part of the deal they'd made was that Hook had always been free of the curse's memory-wiping effects, and sometimes Cora did indeed find it useful to have a henchman who knew exactly what he was doing.<p>

It also helped that Hook was largely amoral and willing to do pretty much anything. Oh, he had his sticking points. For a pirate, Hook had an odd sense of honor, which sometimes clashed with his overriding need for vengeance, and was in any case an inconvenience. When Hook balked, Cora was forced to use her hold on Graham. Though in the long run, it was perhaps a good arrangement. It meant neither of them knew too much about the more personal miseries Cora sometimes chose to deal out, which was probably for the best. Cora enjoyed having her secrets, and she had enough of a hold on the pirate to ensure that he behaved himself.

Of course, Hook had not been happy when she forbade him from exacting his revenge upon Rumplestiltskin, but that had been the condition under which he kept his memory. He accepted that, and the fact that Cora hardly planned to give Gold a happy life, with a modicum of grace, and that was enough for her. For now.

"Are you sure you didn't slip up and dream of the clock working again?" he asked now. "From what I understand, managing the curse exists solely inside your mind, so is it possible you did this by accident?"

"Of course not," Cora replied, shooting him a withering look. There were times she wished that she had allowed Rumplestiltskin to retain his memories. _He _would have been useful, assuming he wanted to be. _Not that Rumple was terribly helpful at the end, but we could have come to an accommodation. _Hook was just a pretty face. "_Time _is moving," she snapped. "That will not have happened by accident."

"You said yourself that it could be because of our lovely visitor. Perhaps her staying for so long has been enough change to influence the curse itself?" the pirate guessed. "After all, our last visitors hardly stayed long enough to have an impact."

Perhaps his pretty face hid at least a modicum of intelligence, although he was still no expert on magic. Cora sighed.

"You might be right," she admitted. "Approach Miss Swan. Befriend her. Find out what she _really _wants and how much she knows about Storybrooke."

"I can do that." Hook looked thoughtful. "Any limits on how I do?"

"No," Cora answered coolly. "None at all."

* * *

><p>Waking up in jail on a Sunday morning was not the way Emma had planned on spending her weekend. First of all, the bed was hard and full of lumps. Secondly, she had planned to be back in her own apartment in Boston by now, armed with Henry's email address and a phone number she could call. She'd said her goodbyes to the Nolans—who were surprisingly nice people, given how she'd intruded on their life—and had gotten on the road. But <em>then <em>what had happened?

Emma's memories were depressingly vague. She'd been on the road leading out of town, had just spotted the _Welcome to Storybrooke_ sign, and then what? There had been something—_A wolf?_ Were there even wolves in this part of the country? Emma didn't know much about wildlife, but she was pretty sure it had been a wolf. Or a hell of a big dog if not. She'd hit it…maybe? Remembering was hard, but Emma _thought _she'd managed to avoid something. But then what had she hit?

The sign.

Oh, man, her car was going to be a mess. Did they have a repair place in this weird little town, or would she have to have it towed somewhere else? David would probably know the answer to that, or Regina would; Emma was willing to bet that the repair place paid taxes, and Regina would probably know from looking over the city's books. From what Emma could gather, Regina's job seemed to be doing whatever parts of the mayor's job that her mother didn't want to do, which meant she knew a lot about the town. She would have thought that was even weirder than most things here, but Storybrooke was a small town, and Emma had travelled enough to know that small towns seemed to do things their own way. Both of them did appear to have been elected, so at least that didn't quite scream of naked nepotism.

Back to her car. _So much for leaving anytime soon!_ she thought. _I bet it's halfway to totaled, given that I'm sleeping in a…cell?_ Emma sat up quickly enough to make her head spin. What was she doing there?

"Finally awake, are we?"

Emma turned her head to see a man in a police officer's uniform standing outside her cell. He had longish dark hair, greasy and unkempt looking. He looked like he needed a shave, or was trying to grow an ill-advised goatee; either way, the sort-of trimmed facial hair made him look like some idiotic medieval villain. _Maybe I _can _see where Henry gets his ideas from. Some of these people are awfully strange. Saying they're from fairy tales might just be the only logical way to describe them. _The almost-mustached villain type wore his uniform sloppily, but did appear to be local law enforcement, and if she squinted, Emma thought she could make out the word 'deputy' on his badge.

"Yeah," she groaned, her head still pounding mercilessly. "Why am I in here? And who are you?"

"Wow. You were so drunk that you don't remember crashing your car? Babe, you've got issues," he replied with a leer.

"I'm not your 'babe'," Emma shot back, getting to her feet and approaching the bars. "And you didn't mention who the hell you are."

"Keith Law. Deputy Sheriff," he replied, stepping closer so that his face was uncomfortably near hers. If Emma had an ounce of back down in her, she probably would have recoiled—his breath smelled suspiciously like liquor, and it was early in the morning—but she only scowled at him.

"My, doesn't that make you important."

The leer deepened, and the letch actually licked his lips as he looked Emma up and down. "Important enough to have the keys to this cell, _and _a way out for you if you behave yourself—"

"Get yourself some coffee, Keith," a cheerfully rustic voice interjected, making both Emma and Keith turn to face the newcomer. "I'll take it from here."

He also wore the same sort of uniform, except his was topped off with a comfortable-looking worn leather jacket. Although a little bit scruffy, with a beard and messy brown hair, he didn't give off the same creepy vibe as Keith. Emma detected a hint of warmth in his brown eyes, although that cooled significantly when he looked at the deputy sheriff. Despite that, his smile was light, almost joking, and he seemed completely at ease with his surroundings.

"Fine," Keith grumbled, and headed out of the sheriff's station, glancing over his shoulder at Emma once more before closing the door behind himself. She ignored that leer, too.

"I'm sorry about him," the other man said, unlocking his cell. "He's really quite harmless…or mostly, anyway. I'm Graham, by the way."

"Emma Swan," she replied, taking the offered hand as she walked out of the cell. "And I wasn't drunk."

"I know. I found you after you hit the sign last night, but you clearly hadn't been drinking. You were unconscious, though, so I brought you here to sleep it off," Graham said.

"To the _jail_?"

He shrugged. "I am the sheriff. And it seemed less…questionable than sticking you on my couch. Besides, the bed here is more comfortable."

"I find that a little hard to believe," Emma said dryly, rolling her shoulders to work the aches out. "Am I free to go, then?"

"Well, you could, but your car's going to be in the shop for days. Want me to give you a ride back to the Nolans', instead?"

Emma resisted the urge to groan out loud. "I've imposed on them enough already. Don't you have a bed and breakfast somewhere in this town?"

"I can take you there, yeah."

"I could also walk." Great. Now this guy was coming onto her, too, for all his gentlemanly protests about how leaving her passed out on his couch would have been inappropriate. At least he was more polite about it.

Graham gave her a crooked smile and opened the sheriff station's door for her. "But how am I going to offer you a job if I don't get a chance to talk to you?"

"You're going—you're _what?_"

"Regina and I were chatting last night, and she mentioned that you had experience tracking criminals down," he explained. "And while the crime rate here might not be anything like Boston's, I _do _have an opening for another sheriff's deputy…and it'll give you a chance to see your boy more often."

Emma stopped to glare at him. "You're telling me that _Regina _put you up to this?"

"Honestly, no. It's my idea, but it does seem to fit, doesn't it?" Another charming smile followed that remark, and Emma had to at least give him credit. Graham _didn't _seem to be trying to jump in her pants; he was trying to hire her, which was even more uncomfortable. She knew what to do with letches and flirts. Nice guys, on the other hand, were a bit more of a mystery.

"I'm gonna have to think about this," she said uneasily. "Can you give me a few days?"

"The job's not going anywhere," Graham confirmed with a smile. "Your car is going to need at least that long to get fixed, anyway."

"Great," Emma muttered. What _was _it about this town? First Regina convinced her to stay for a week, and then when she tried to leave, she got in an accident. Sure, it all had to be a coincidence, but Emma was starting to find that a little hard to believe.

* * *

><p><span><em>2 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

Belle was reading in the great hall when the unexpected visitor arrived, and she was so engrossed that she hardly noticed until he was already in the room. In her defense, the book she was reading was fascinating. It was one of Rumple's older volumes, a history of the way magic had changed over the centuries, and although Belle would never be a sorceress, she was certainly curious about the forces that seemed to rule Rumplestiltskin's world. He _had _insisted on teaching her a spell or two, a few defenses that allowed her to draw on his magic if she needed them, but Belle knew in her heart that she'd never embrace magic the way he did. That didn't mean she couldn't learn about it, though, so she didn't even hear the black-clad stranger walk in.

"Um, pardon me, My Lady…?"

"Oh!" Belle looked up so fast she almost dropped the book. "Hello. What can I do for you?"

Quickly, she clambered off the chaise she'd been sitting on, smoothing her dress down and carefully putting the ancient book down. The stranger was dressed in some sort of military uniform, with a ridiculously plumed helmet tucked under one arm, but he didn't look like most soldiers Belle had ever met. Most of them were more like Gaston: posturing, self-important, and muscle-bound louts. This man had kind and sad eyes, and smiled at her like she was a person, not an ornament. _Much better than Gaston, then._ Belle liked him already.

"I'm sorry. I have never been here before. Is this the Dark Castle?" he asked, looking around curiously.

Belle smiled. He was undoubtedly confused by the sun streaming through the windows and the flowers on the grand table; people always expected the Dark Castle to live up to its name, expected Rumplestiltskin's home to be a haven for horrors of all sorts. But they were wrong. Even before Belle had torn down the nailed-up curtains and Rumple had agreed to 'get used to' the light streaming in, the castle had been a place full of curiosities, not terrible things. Oh, there were some truly frightening objects that Rumple had collected over the years, but most of those were safely locked away. Especially now.

"It is," she confirmed. "Don't let the sunlight fool you. Rumplestiltskin is—"

"What are _you _doing here, Huntsman?" her love's voice suddenly intruded, high pitched and furious. He'd appeared on the other side of the hall, but was now striding forward with a deadly purpose to his walk that Belle had rarely seen from him, radiating fury and danger.

The Huntsman straightened, turning from Belle with slightly wide eyes. "I am here to deliver a message from Queen Cora."

"Still has your heart, does she?" Rumplestiltskin said nastily, stopping next to Belle. His eyes swept over her, and the intensity of his gaze almost made her shiver. Belle wasn't afraid of Rumplestiltskin—particularly not after living with him for this long and knowing him as she did—but there were times that he could frighten her for others.

The way the Huntsman stiffened silently provided answer enough. Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed, but his next words were addressed to Belle:

"Did he touch you?"

"No," she answered, confused by the urgency in his tone.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Exasperated by his odd questions, Belle asked one of her own: "Why? Rumple, what is going on?"

"I don't trust his Mistress," he snapped, gesturing at the Huntsman. "If she knew about you, she'd undoubtedly send _someone_ to hurt you, and this one might very well be her choice now that he's failed to capture Snow White for her."

"What _is _it between you two?" Belle demanded, seeing the raw rage in Rumplestiltskin's eyes, the possessive protectiveness that drove her insane. Usually, he was so much better than this—well, getting better, anyway—but the Evil Queen seemed able to bring out the worst in him. _Or just her messenger can._

"I assure you, my mission has nothing to do with the lady," the Huntsman said stiffly. "I am only here to deliver a message, nothing more."

"Ah, I'm afraid it's more than that, dearie," Rumplestiltskin replied with the high-pitched giggle that Belle disliked. She didn't hate anything about him, but he only laughed like that when he wanted to be cruel. She disliked it because she felt it chipped away at the good man who lived under the curse, the one who loved her and who she loved, but so long as he insisted on remaining cursed, there was nothing she could do about that. Still, she wasn't expecting him to continue with: "Now you've seen Belle, so now you're going to have to die."

"_What?"_ Belle gasped.

The Huntsman took a step back. "I am here as a royal messenger—"

"I don't actually care about diplomatic niceties," the Dark One cut him off, ignoring Belle. "What I do care about is Cora knowing about Belle, which I can't allow to happen. And since _she _has your heart, you can't lie to her. Ergo, you have to die."

"I don't serve her by choice. I would keep your secret," the young man replied, looking offended that Rumplestiltskin would imply that he would."

"Rumple, you can't," Belle interjected, grabbing his arm before he could step towards the Huntsman once more. His head swiveled to her, his golden eyes unreadable.

"She'll hurt you if she knows about you, Belle," Rumplestiltskin replied, his tone going far softer than Belle expected. "Both of you. Cora considers love to be weakness, and you _are _my weaknesses. I must keep you safe."

"Not by murdering someone who only came to deliver a message," she whispered desperately. "Please. I can't live with that on my conscience."

"It's the only way."

"It can't be," Belle replied, thinking fast. "Can't you…I don't know, erase his memory or something?"

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Such potions are much less effective if the recipient is unwilling to forget. It's far easier to kill him, sweetheart. I won't make you watch."

"I'll take it," the Huntsman interjected with sudden passion. "I know I can't be trusted to keep your secret, but I do not serve the Queen by choice. I would stop her if I could, but she has my heart. I will take your potion."

Belle's breath caught in her throat, and she swung to look at Rumplestiltskin, pleading with her eyes. "See? You don't have to kill him."

"Belle…" It was a growl, but she knew he was close to giving in.

"Please?" she whispered, her hands still on his arm. "If he doesn't remember me, what harm can it do?"

One last glare at the Huntsman, and then—"Fine."

Grinning, Belle went up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, which they had at least long since figured out would not break his curse. True Love's kiss between lovers needed to be on the lips to work, so she could show him affection this way, even if she would vastly preferred to have done so in other ways. Rumplestiltskin still gave her an exasperated look as if he couldn't quite figure out why he'd given in, but he did pluck a hair off of the Huntsman's head to create the potion without further ado. When it was complete, the Huntsman accepted it willingly, apologizing softly to Belle before she made her way upstairs, knowing that she could not be present for him drinking it, lest Rumple have to create a second potion so that Cora's messenger would forget her a second time.

The Huntsman delivered his message to Rumplestiltskin without her there, and left the castle none the wiser.

* * *

><p>As fate would have it, Cora ran into Emma before Hook had the chance. Henry had discovered that Emma hadn't managed to leave the night before and shown up at the door to the room she'd rented at Granny's, all smiles and stories about how <em>of course <em>the curse wouldn't let her leave. Somehow, he talked her into taking him out for ice cream along the way, so they found themselves sitting outside the ice cream parlor eating sundaes. She kept telling him that she was planning on leaving as soon as the bug was fixed—not without keeping in touch, of course, but she really did have a life to get back to. No matter how many crazy stories Henry told her about her family being here in this funny little town, the real world was still waiting outside of Storybrooke. Like it or not, she had to get back to that.

Even if she had kind of come to like this kid she'd given birth to, she wasn't his mother, and it was time to go back to Boston. _Even though I just got offered a job that would be a lot more stable than the one I have now. _Having a steady job would be nice, and being near Henry would be…well, nice.

"Henry," a new voice interrupted Henry's recount of something one of his classmates (the Mad Hatter's daughter, apparently) had done. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Hi, Grandma," her boy answered, looking up guiltily. "I'm, uh, here with Emma."

"So I can see."

Emma looked up at the older woman, seeing Cora Mills up close for the first time. She was a handsome woman, even if she had to be over fifty, with dark hair and darker eyes. There was something unsettling in Cora's steady gaze, something that made a chill run down Emma's spine. Her hackles came up instinctively; people like Cora had always put Emma's teeth on edge. But this _was _Henry's grandmother, creepy as the woman seemed to be, so Emma would try to be nice.

"Hello," she said, rising and holding out a hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm—"

"I know who you are, Miss Swan," Cora cut her off. "And I presume that you know who I am."

"Yeah. You're the mayor." Emma dropped her hand after leaving it out for a moment. She was definitely not impressed.

"Good. That will make this easier."

"Will make _what _easier?" she demanded.

"Henry, go home," Cora ordered, not even bothering to look at the kid. "I will deal with this."

"I'd rather stay," Henry objected, and Cora finally turned to glare at him.

"I did not ask what you wanted. I told you to leave, and you shall. Need I call your mother?"

Emma watched her son deflate. "No. I'll go." He started to walk out, and then looked over his shoulder at Emma. "I'll see you later, Emma?"

"You bet you will, kid." She might have been determined to leave Storybrooke, but the more hostile Cora became, the more obstinate Emma felt.

Henry headed out of the ice cream shop, leaving Emma to face Cora alone. The two women glared at one another in silence for a long moment before Cora said:

"I don't like you in my grandson's life."

"Well, luckily for both of us, that's his parents' decision, isn't it?" she retorted.

"No. It isn't." Cora's eyes narrowed. "What _is _your purpose here, Miss Swan?"

The question made Emma scowl. "I'm just here to get to know Henry a little," she replied.

"No. You aren't. Stay away from my grandson, or you'll regret ever coming to Storybrooke," the mayor said softly.

"Is that a threat?" Emma demanded.

"Take it how you will, dear. Just remember what I've said, and you'll be perfectly fine."

Emma snorted. She'd never liked being pushed around, and Cora Mills reminded Emma of every bully she'd ever met while in foster care. Storybrooke's mayor was more cold blooded than most of them; but her self-absorbed focus was just the same. Apparently, she didn't like having her little applecart of a perfect town upset by Emma's presence, or her perfect little family (which Emma already knew was not so perfect) upset by Henry's birth mother showing up. But that was too bad. If Cora wanted her to leave, she might just stay a little longer. Not forever, of course—but a month or two wasn't out of the question. Not if it ticked off this self-righteous bitch.

"You know, I've never taken threats really well," she told Cora. "And the fact that you're _trying _to make me leave only makes me want to stay. So shove your threats, Madam Mayor. I'm going to live my life my way."

* * *

><p>"Miss Blanchard!" Henry called, running over to catch his teacher as she walked out of Storybrooke Elementary on Monday morning. She looked unhappy, just like she always did outside of class, and he couldn't help but compare her to the strong and bold woman that Snow White had been. It wasn't Mary Margaret's fault that she had been cursed, but he still wished he could meet his <em>real <em>grandmother.

"Oh, hello, Henry." She smiled, of course, because when did Mary Margaret not smile for one of her students? She was the best teacher he'd had yet, and everyone in Henry's class liked her a lot.

Of course, everyone else had been in her class for twenty-eight years, but now that he'd come to terms with that, Henry was coping pretty well. It was certainly better than wondering what was wrong with himself when he was the only one aging and advancing a grade every year. Before Miss French had given him the Book, Henry had just thought he was crazy. Now he knew better.

"Hi," he said as cheerfully as he could manage. His mom's idea was clever, but Regina was counting on Henry to pull it off, and he wasn't going to mess this up. He couldn't let either his birth mother or _her _mother suspect what he was up to. If they did, they probably wouldn't go along with it at all.

"What's on your mind?" Mary Margaret asked, shifting her bag on her shoulder. She looked like she was walking home again, and Henry wondered if her car was broken. Again.

"I wanted you to meet my birth mother. She's here from Boston."

Mary Margaret turned in surprise to look at Emma, who had trailed Henry at a more sedate pace, wide eyed and uncertain. She was still wrapping her mind around this place, Henry knew, and had only just made the decision to stay in Storybrooke the night before. But she _had _accepted Graham's offer of a job, and Henry was dead certain that his mother was behind that, too. His mom was absolutely brilliant, and her plan was going to work.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," Mary Margaret said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. But she was trying to be nice, and Henry knew they'd hit it right off. After all, Emma was her daughter.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said uneasily. It was hard meeting a parent you'd never met. Henry thought she believed him enough to at least accept the possibility of Mary Margaret being her own mother, and _that _had to be worse than tracking down the mom you'd found online.

"Emma's moving to Storybrooke, and she saw that you were looking for a roommate," Henry put in before his birth mother could chicken out. "She just took a job as deputy sheriff," he added proudly.

"I…I've had that ad in the paper for ages. I didn't think anyone would be interested." Mary Margaret's voice was soft, and spoke of so many disappointments over the years. His adopted grandmother really had been awful to her, and Henry _hated_ Cora for that.

"Well, I'm new in town, but I guess I'm interested." Emma's smile was crooked. "Assuming you'll have me, anyway."

"Of course I will! Do you want to come over and look at the loft? It's kind of small, but there's plenty of room for two."

"I'd like that," Emma said, and Henry was glad to hear that her tone sounded more natural. She turned to him. "Can I trust you to take yourself home without getting in too much trouble?"

"Actually, I was going to go to the animal shelter to see Dad." _Grandpa, _Henry corrected himself silently, but he couldn't say that in front of Mary Margaret. Not yet, anyway. He gave Emma a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. You two should go."

So they did. Henry watched his birth mother walking off with her mother before heading over to the animal shelter (he really did want to go there; he really liked one of the cats and wanted to play with it). Their conversation started off awkward but slowly seemed to become more animated, and Henry hoped that they'd start getting along quickly. Mary Margaret seemed so lonely under the curse, and the Evil Queen hadn't been very nice to her. Between Grace's dad stalking her and her constant money problems, Mary Margaret wasn't doing very well. But maybe Emma moving in with her could change that. She certainly wouldn't let Jefferson bully Mary Margaret any more, that was for sure!

It wasn't Jefferson's fault, Henry knew. He was cursed, too, and was probably a nice guy back in the Enchanted Forest. But here he was a jerk who had even barged into class to harass Mary Margaret one day, and all Ms. Cole had told him to do was leave. The principal hadn't even pressed charges! Under the curse, Ms. Cole had been Princess Abigail, and she'd been brave and true, but not here in Storybrooke. Here she was a tyrant who always picked on Mary Margaret, giving her the worst duties and always yelling at her for her classroom being a mess. His book said that Princess Abigail and Snow White had been friendly back in their _real _lives, but here Kathryn Cole treated Mary Margaret terribly, and it wasn't fair.

There were a lot of people like that in Storybrooke, people Henry knew weren't supposed to be like this but had been given terrible lives and nasty personalities by Cora. He'd always known that his grandmother was vindictive, but he had never understood how much until he'd read the Book. Jefferson and Abigail weren't the only ones who had been turned upside down; King Midas was Tobias Cole, estranged from his daughter and owned a struggling lawn company that was perpetually in debt. King Francis, or Mitchell Herman was a rich judge, but he had some really nasty habits that Cora seemed to know about, which meant he never decided cases in anything but her favor. Prince Eric was Cora's cook, and he was vain, vapid, and nasty to everyone. The nicest people were mean in Storybrooke, and everyone who was supposed to be good and noble had been force into lives they would hate themselves for living.

The list of tragedies went on. It wasn't fair, Henry knew, but it was his job to get Emma to break the curse, and he wouldn't fail.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Don't be a stranger – let me know what you think and that I haven't scared you away! _

_Stay tuned for Chapter Eight: "The Truth", where Regina tries to convince Emma that the curse is real, Cora discovers the Book, and starts getting suspicious. In the past, Regina learns magic and Belle reads a bedtime story. _


	8. Chapter 8: The Truth

_**Chapter Eight—"The Truth"**_

* * *

><p>"You've reached Mr. Gold," the familiar voice said. "Leave a message."<p>

Sighing, Lacey hung up the phone. Again. She _knew _that he would have recognized her number, and after three calls during the last hour, Gold would certainly have been near his cell phone for one of them. He was probably in the shop, too, but that didn't help when he wouldn't talk to her. Gold had said that he needed her to be safe, and that Lacey had to stay away from him for that reason, but she didn't understand any of that. He'd started avoiding her—and hanging up on her—over a week ago (nine days, now, actually)—and Lacey was going to go mad if he didn't stop. She _missed _him. Gold was irritable, sharp-edged, and downright nasty at times, but she loved him. Lacey didn't always know why, but she loved him more than almost anything in the world.

"Mama?" a small voice asked, and Lacey bent down to pick up her daughter as Renee toddled towards her.

"Hello, angel," she said with a smile, banishing her loneliness and her worries from her expression. Renee was just old enough that she was starting to pick up on such things, and Lacey didn't want to have to explain why one of Renee's favorite people was ignoring them both.

"Bake?"

Lacey almost said no, but big brown eyes were fixated on her, round and hopeful, and how could any mother ignore that? Renee's favorite purple stuffed crocodile still dangled from one hand, but the three year old used her other hand to pull gently on Belle's hair, still looking at her intently.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "Cookies or brownies?"

Renee had a serious sweet tooth, though where she'd gotten it, Lacey didn't know. Lacey tried to limit her daughter's intake of sugar and sweets, but sometimes she just gave in. Bad days were always the hardest for her to resist on, and today was extra bad.

"Cookies!" Renee said cheerfully, and Lacey managed to smile. Gold was being a jerk—or paranoid and frightened, more likely—but she still had the most perfect little girl in the known universe.

"Cookies it is," she agreed. "I'll make 'em, you decorate them, okay?"

"Okay! Can I have sprinkles?"

"Of course you can."

So, Lacey got out the cookie dough and sprinkles, and together they started making chocolate chip cookies complete with rainbow-colored sprinkles. Usually, she would have used sugar cookies, but she'd run out of those last week and hadn't managed to buy any more. Besides, she knew that Renee would like them regardless. Lacey had yet to find a type of sweet that her daughter didn't like, although her absolute favorite was probably the expensive chocolates that Gold imported from England. Now _he _had a sweet tooth to match Renee's; Lacey couldn't hold a candle to either of them when it came to eating junk, and she really did like chocolate and candy herself. But the pair of them were in another category entirely.

Renee was almost done decorating the cookies when a knocking came on their apartment door. Immediately, Renee looked up at her mother with hopeful eyes. "Gold?" she asked.

"I don't think so, angel," Lacey answered regretfully, a painful fist wrapping around her heart. She pasted on a happy smile. "But we should go see who it is, right?"

At least Renee was a cheerful child, and she liked most people that came to the library. Lacey couldn't afford daycare for her beautiful little girl, so she usually brought her down to work with her, although they didn't get a lot of visitors at the apartment. "Right!"

Wiping off her hands, Lacey picked Renee up again and balanced her on one hip. Renee was getting a bit too big to haul around all the time, but she still liked carrying her baby around. Besides, Lacey hauled boxes of books around most days, and some of them were every bit as heavy as Renee, or worse. Lacey might have been slight, but she was pretty strong for her size, and carrying her daughter was worth the effort. And it allowed Renee to use both her hands to open the door, which made Lacey smile.

The man on the other side of the door, however, did not.

"Tony," she greeted the strapping dark haired man with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you wanted to go see a movie, Lace. Just the two of us, have some time out, y'know? I haven't seen you all week," Tony Rose replied.

She sighed. "You know I can't just drop everything on a moment's notice," Lacey tried to say as reasonably as she could. It was an ongoing argument between them; Tony never seemed to understand the responsibilities inherent in being a parent, and he didn't want to spend time with Renee, either. Everyone in town seemed to think that he had to be Renee's father, but Lacey knew better. Her memories on that front were rather foggy, but Lacey knew that Renee was nothing like Tony. "Besides, Renee and I have plans for tonight."

"We're making cookies!" the toddler volunteered, but without the invitation that she would have issued if Tony had been someone she liked.

Renee was a good judge of character, after all, and although Tony had been Lacey's friend for as long as she could remember, she rather thought her daughter was right about him. _Even if Dad did want me to marry him, how could I marry someone so superficial? _

"How…exciting," he replied dryly.

Lacey smiled her brightest smile, glancing down at Renee. "It is, isn't it, sweetheart?"

"Yes. But boys aren't allowed," her daughter replied solemnly, and Lacey had to bite back a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Tony, but the princess has spoken," she said, trying to look a little regretful for his sake. "We've got plans."

"Of course. I'll call you later, then," Tony said, as if he was expecting her to be excited about that. Of course, he'd always been a bit of an egotistical jock, but there were times Lacey wondered how he never got the message.

Then again, she never came out and actually told him that she didn't want to see him, so she supposed that was partially her fault.

"Sure," she replied, and closed the door before he could invite himself in. Thankfully, her three year old shield usually scared him off, so Lacey was able to go back to making cookies without any further interruptions.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 Months Before the Curse<em>

"Where's Papa?" the small voice asked as Belle sat helplessly at the spinning wheel, running her fingers over the wood.

Turning, she spotted her daughter as she toddled into the room, clad in a purple nightgown and soft blue slippers. Gabrielle was only three, and barely that, and explaining to her why her father had had to go away for several months had been one of the hardest things her parents had ever done. She was used to having her papa leave for a few days at a time, as was Belle, but now Rumplestiltskin had been gone for a week and they were both starting to get lonely. The Dark Castle was far too quiet without him.

"Hey, you," she said, standing up and going over to pick her daughter up. Gabrielle snuggled up to her immediately, sleepily sucking on her thumb. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, Gabi?"

"Don't want do," Gabrielle muttered, pressing her face into Belle's shoulder. "Want Papa."

"Me, too," Belle whispered before she could stop herself. "But Papa explained why he had to go, remember? We'll see him again before you know it."

"Want him _now_," their daughter insisted, and Belle's heart melted as she carried Gabrielle upstairs towards the spacious nursery she and Rumplestiltskin had meticulously put together for their child before she was born. She was just glad that Rumple had managed _not _to get himself thrown in prison before their daughter's birthday. Explaining his absence on that special day would have been impossible.

"How about I tell you a story instead?" she suggested.

"Want Papa's stories. Papa's stories _better_."

"I miss him, too, sweetie," Belle admitted, swallowing back her own pain when she looked down to see tears glistening in her baby's eyes. "But we'll see him soon."

_This had better be worth it, Rumple, _she thought to herself. _I am _not _facing twenty-eight years of the curse without you there, and I'm definitely not facing the aftermath without you. _Belle knew that their current situation was necessary, and in the grand scheme of things, missing Rumple for three months while he let the Charmings think they had locked him up was nothing. They would have the rest of their lives together after he woke her in the Land Without Magic, and everything would turn out all right.

She had to believe that, or she would go insane.

* * *

><p>"Your mother is crazy," Emma growled across the kitchen table. Mary Margaret was busy with parent-teacher conferences, which gave her a chance to talk with Regina and Henry without having to explain Henry's crazy theories to the woman she'd moved in with all of four days ago. "I mean absolutely certifiable. I've only been a deputy sheriff for <em>three days <em>and I already want to kill her."

Regina shrugged. "This is hardly news."

"She's the Evil Queen. What do you expect?" Henry put in, and Emma scowled.

"Kid, your grandmother doesn't have to be evil to be crazy," she pointed out, wishing that every conversation with Henry didn't somehow come around to his theory about this curse.

"What'd she do this time?" Regina asked, sounding tired of it all. And Emma could hardly blame her—after all, what must it have been like to be raised by a woman like Cora Mills? Thinking like that made Emma a little glad that she hadn't been adopted. Someone crazy might have grabbed her instead of someone like Regina.

"She wanted me to arrest Doctor Whale for being drunk and disorderly."

"That's not a surprise," Regina replied with an eye roll as Henry asked curiously:

"Was he?"

"Drunk, sure. Not terribly disorderly. Though he was flirting like mad with that librarian, what's-her-name?"

"Lacey French," Regina supplied.

"She's Beauty from _Beauty and the Beast_," Henry added, and Emma sighed.

"Is it _always _fairy tales with you, kid?" she asked before she could stop herself.

She was expecting some sort of explosion, expecting Henry to be hurt by her words. She wasn't anticipating the intensity of his response, however. "Of course it is," Henry said hotly. "This is _important, _Emma. Everyone here is depending on you to break the curse. They don't know it, but their lives were stolen from them, and you're the only chance they have to get them back!"

The outburst left Emma speechless for a moment, and she could only stare at the stubborn and imaginative child she had given birth to. He believed this so strongly that even after almost two weeks in Storybrooke, he could utterly astound her with his faith. Henry was so absolutely certain that everyone in his hometown was under a curse, but that was utterly impossible. Magic didn't exist in the real world. People couldn't cast curses. As odd as Storybrooke was—and Emma did have to admit that the town was weird—what Henry believed flat out wasn't possible.

"Henry…" she started, trying to say this as gently as she could, all the while remembering what Regina had said Henry's therapist believed. Should she humor him instead of trying to be the voice of reason? Regina seemed to be trying that tact, and maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

"You don't believe me," Henry cut in. "That's okay. You haven't been here very long. You'll see."

Helplessly, Emma looked at Regina, but the dark haired woman (or semi-evil princess, according to Henry) just shrugged. But then she said something that rocked Emma's entire world. "Henry's right, you know. It isn't just a storybook."

Emma's jaw almost dropped off her face, and a long moment passed before she could find her voice.

"_What?"_

"I wasn't wholly truthful with you before, Emma, but it's time that you knew everything," the mayor's daughter said bluntly. "Henry's book may tell stories, but it tells _true _stories. It tells all of our stories. Even yours."

Wide eyed, all Emma could do was stare as Regina took the book from Henry, opening it to the story at the end that Henry always tried to use to convince Emma that he was right. There was a picture on the page Regina chose, one of a mother with her newborn child. Emma knew that picture, knew that the man at the woman's side was supposedly her father (who was supposedly David Nolan, which was just plain _strange_), and that the baby was supposed to be her. There was another woman in the picture, however, one with long dark hair who stood on the other side of the bed, and it was that woman Regina pointed at.

"This is me," Regina told her. "I was there. I remember _everything_ about that life, and I have since you arrive. My mother cast this horrible curse to enact revenge on my stepsister—your mother—and on everyone else she believed had slighted her. And you are the only one who can break it."

Emma gulped. "Look, I'm just a foster kid from the system. I don't have any fairy tale beginning. I'm no Savior. I'm just…me."

"And that's what we need." Regina grabbed her arm when Emma started to pull away, and the other woman's grip was surprisingly strong. "Look, I'm not asking you for belief right now. Just…keep an open mind."

Was everyone in this town crazy? Henry believing in this was one thing, but the fact that his mother—who Emma had figured to be the sane woman in that family—also believed was just too much. Emma's first instinct told her to run, told her to put as much distance between herself and this crazy town as she could, but Henry was staring at her with huge brown eyes, and how could she do that to him? Besides, she'd just started a new job four days ago, and although Emma had held some jobs for really short periods, none of those had been honest. It would hardly look good on her resume to quit this one so early, and her stuff had just arrived yesterday.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?" she finally demanded, out of diplomatic ways to say that.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was _not _telling you that for the last two weeks?" Regina countered, rolling her eyes. "And if you think I _sound _crazy, you should try having two lives rolling around in your head. Sometimes I think it's a wonder I haven't gone insane."

"Are you sure about that?" Emma couldn't help asking drily.

Henry looked horrified, but Regina snorted wryly. "You have no idea."

They stared at one another in silence for a long moment, and Regina finally shrugged.

"I know this sounds insane to you," she continued. "It would sound insane to me if I hadn't lived it. But I did, and you're going to, whether you like it or not. The curse won't let you leave for good, so you're stuck here like the rest of us."

"I swerved into a street sign to avoid hitting a wolf," Emma objected. "That's not some mythical curse keeping me from leaving town."

"Fine. Then try again." There was something fed up, something I-know-better-than-you-know, in Regina's expression that just got under Emma's skin, and before she knew it, she was snapping:

"I will!"

"Go ahead. Just try not to total your car this time."

Emma scowled. "I didn't_ total _it last time. And it's fine now."

"Go on then," Regina goaded her. "Try to leave, and then we'll talk again."

* * *

><p>Regina took Henry home after Emma stormed out of the apartment she shared with Snow—err, Mary Margaret. Henry protested, of course, but Regina reassured him that Emma <em>would <em>be back. Her niece was just so hard-headed that she needed to see this for herself, and the curse would prove it to her when it wouldn't let her leave. _Or at least it will if Rumple's right, _she thought to herself as they settled in at the kitchen table for homework time. _He'd better be right. Then again, he's been right about everything else so far. _Snow used to tell Regina that she shouldn't trust Rumplestiltskin the way she did, but she had a different relationship with the imp than her sister did. Snow didn't really know Rumple, whereas Regina _did_, and she knew how many brains he used to hide behind that scaly exterior. He wasn't a 'good guy' by any stretch of the imagination, but then again, Regina wasn't really one, either. But they had been in this together from the beginning.

Noticing that Henry was flipping through the Book again broke her out of her reverie. "Aren't you supposed to be doing your math homework?" she asked her son.

"Sorry. I just had a thought about Jane Doe in the hospital," Henry said brightly. "What if she's Sleeping Beauty?"

"You can look it up later," Regina reminded him. "Homework now."

The sound of the front door opening interrupted before Henry could respond, so he called out: "We're in the kitchen!"

It was a little early for David to be home—one of his assistants at the animal shelter had called in sick, so he was working the late shift and feeding the animals—but Regina thought nothing of it until a familiar voice asked: "What are you reading, Henry?"

They both froze; son's eyes met mother's, and Henry answered quickly:

"Just a book, Grandma. Nothing important."

Regina picked up immediately: "And you need to be doing your homework. Why don't you take it upstairs?"

"Good idea," Henry agreed, probably a little too fast. Immediately, he started gathering up his school supplies—and the book—while Regina turned to look at Cora.

"What brings you by so late, Mother?" she asked as mildly as she could manage. "Not that it isn't wonderful to see you, but this is unexpected."

Something flashed in Cora's eyes, and Regina kicked herself mentally. She had to be careful. Her cursed self probably would not have questioned Cora at all, even such an inoffensive question as that one.

"Can't I visit my family like any loving grandmother?" Cora asked with a viper's smile, leaning over to kiss Henry on the cheek. The affectionate gesture was out of character for her, however, and Regina realized with a sinking heart what Cora was doing without being able to stop her. One manicured hand landed on the Book, turning it towards her, and Cora frowned. "_Once Upon a Time,_" she read aloud. "Aren't you a little too old for fairy tales, dear?"

Henry frowned. "I'm only ten."

"I thought you'd be interested in more exciting tales by now. Something like those comic books you used to like."

"I still like comic books. I can like both," Regina's adopted son replied stoically, one hand gripping the Book protectively.

But Cora was older and stronger, and Henry couldn't yank the Book away without drawing even more attention to it. Regina knew that she had never been particularly pleased with Regina and David's desire to adopt a child. Oh, she'd been caring enough with Henry over the years (barely), but now that Regina was awake, she realized how her mother had always viewed Henry: the consequence of allowing her daughter and son-in-law a little bit of growth within the curse. Cora hadn't appreciated the idea of _no _time moving at all, so she'd allowed some people to change a little. Regina's cursed self, of course, had wanted a child desperately, though that had probably been Cora's doing, too. But since the curse would not allow for a pregnancy, the only answer had been adoption.

Still smiling, Cora pulled the Book from Henry's hands and flipped it open. "How quaint," she said softly, her eyes flicking rapidly over the first few pages. "And rather battered. Regina, darling, surely you can afford better books for Henry if he insists on reading such children's tales."

"She didn't buy it for me," Henry scowled. "I got it from the library."

"Oh, did you now?" Cora purred.

"Mother, I think it's time for Henry to do homework, don't you?" Regina cut in, trying her hardest to sound like Cora's well behaved and cursed daughter.

"Of course. May I borrow your book, Henry? Just for a few minutes." The smile was dangerous, but what could Henry say? There was no way to argue with Cora without giving the game away, so he had to nod.

"I'll be upstairs, I guess," the ten year old replied uneasily, but he did glance over his shoulder at Regina with pleading eyes. She tried to give him a reassuring look in return, but could say nothing as Henry tromped up the stairs, shoulders hunched and angry.

Cora waited until he was gone to say: "I don't approve of this, Regina."

"Approve of what, Mother?" Slowly, Regina rose to look her mother in the eye, trying to still act meek and well-behaved. "It's only stories. He'll grow out of them soon enough."

"I would hope so," Cora looked up at her, eyes dark and unreadable, yet still dangerous. "Nevertheless, you'll put a stop to this. I will return the book to the library."

Taking a deep breath, Regina said cautiously. "That might not be the best idea. Henry is at the age where he will only get more interested if you take the book away."

"Are you questioning my good judgment, darling?"

Impossible to miss the warning in that tone. It would have made Regina's cursed self turn to jelly.

"Of course not, Mother," she replied quickly. "I only…well, if you want him to lose interest…" She trailed off, hoping that Cora would connect the dots herself. And not take the book.

"I will handle this, since you are clearly incapable of doing so," her mother told her, and Regina knew that fighting would be foolish. Hopefully, Cora would return the book, and Regina would be able to get it back. If not, well, she remembered what had happened well enough, and Rumplestiltskin could undoubtedly fill in anything she missed.

"As you wish. I don't mean to argue."

"Good girl," Cora praised her, leaning in to kiss Regina on the cheek before she gathered the Book up. "I will see you at the office tomorrow."

"Good night, Mother," she said tonelessly, and showed Cora to the door.

* * *

><p><span><em>12 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

He didn't expect her to show up for her lesson in tears.

Rumplestiltskin had enchanted one of Regina's necklaces to give her a one-way transport to the Dark Castle for lessons—he couldn't exactly show up anywhere near the Summer Palace to teach her, lest Cora notice, and he wasn't going to play chauffer every time she needed a ride before she learned to teleport for herself. Besides, when and if Regina could get away from her overbearing mother was always hard to predict, so it was easier to give her a way to bring herself to him when she was ready to learn. The spells he used always gave him enough warning to be ready to greet her, which meant Rumplestiltskin was waiting in the great hall when she arrived, but he still hadn't expected her to be crying.

Oh, it wasn't full-blown sobs or anything quiet so disappointing as that, but Regina's eyes were definitely glistening with tears and there were suspicious wet tracks gleaming on her cheeks. One look at him made her gulp, and Regina immediately turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. Several minutes passed in silence—what was _he _supposed to do with a crying princess?—while Rumplestiltskin racked his brain for something appropriate to say. He wasn't the comforting sort, and he certainly wasn't her father, even though he very well could have been if things had worked out differently. He was the Dark One! If a princess was in tears, she should be there because he made her cry, not because he was apparently the one she went to when she was crying.

"I don't know if I want to do this," she whispered raggedly.

"Uh…do what, exactly?" he asked her back, shifting nervously. Crying princesses were not his specialty, unless it was mocking them. And instinct told him that mocking her would probably not turn out well right now.

After all, he was trying to turn Regina into something of a wildcard. She was never going to cast his curse, and a long time would pass before she escaped the hold her mother had on her, but once she did, the still-weeping princess was bound to be extraordinary. He would need her against her mother in the long run, would use her as a means with which to ensure the Dark Curse—almost completed now, save for a few key components and a few twists that Cora casting it would necessitate he include—was eventually broken. But that meant they would have to work together, and that necessitated a certain degree of trust between them. And despite himself, after a half year of teaching Regina, he was growing…fond of her.

"Magic!" Regina spat as if it was a dirty word.

"Wh—What?" Surprise jerked that response out of him. She couldn't do that! He was going to _need _her, and without magic, Regina was never going to feel strong enough to stand up to her mother.

"It's all darkness!" She whirled on him, tears streaming faster down her face. "I don't want to be evil. I don't care about power. I just want to protect those I love."

Rumplestiltskin blinked. That was the key, wasn't it? Cora wanted Regina to embrace darkness and power, because that was all Cora cared about. Regina, however, was much more her father's daughter. Regina wanted _love. _After all, Prince Henry had tried to love even Cora, had been loyal to her no matter what she had done to him, and had made his daughter the center of his world when Cora proved time and again she would not love him back. Possibilities flashed through Rumplestiltskin's mind, and he knew what he had to do. _Be a counter to Cora, _he told himself. _Show her how to embrace the strengths Cora doesn't know she has._

Slowly, as cautiously as he would approach a wounded animal, Rumplestiltskin stepped forward. "Who says magic cannot do that, dearie?" he asked softly.

"What do you mean?" She peered at him suspiciously.

"Magic isn't only darkness, Regina," Rumplestiltskin replied seriously, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Magic can protect as well as it can destroy, heal as well as it can hurt."

"I'm not sure I believe you."

A slight smile touched his lips. "What did she make you do?"

"Rip a servant's heart out. Like she did with Daniel," Regina whispered brokenly. "And then she made me crush it."

"Tsk, tsk," he giggled shortly. "Your mother's a fool. There's much more to magic than that."

Regina swallowed her tears. "Like what?"

"She's teaching you to hurt people, yes?" he asked, and she nodded. "Well, then, I shall show you how to heal them."

Her nod was hesitant, but a little hopeful, and soon enough Regina's tears dried. She threw herself into learning, and Rumplestiltskin made sure to teach her well. Had he been crafting her to cast the curse, he would never have encouraged her to embrace emotions like love and the need to protect people, but that ship had sailed. Regina was never going to cast his curse; Cora was the only option remaining. For a while, he had thought that Zelena might be another option—he'd taught her when she'd shown up in the Enchanted Forest, but by the time she'd left for Oz in a huff, he'd been glad to see her go. She'd been less sane than her mother and almost as unpredictable, and having his own heart used to cast the curse had not been any part of Rumplestiltskin's plans. Zelena would have been less _dangerous _than Cora and far easier to manipulate, but he couldn't take that chance.

That left him with Regina as a student while Zelena wreaked havoc in Oz, slowly exiling her "sister" witches and establishing her own rule over the place. He had no doubt that she'd eventually return to the Enchanted Forest, undoubtedly to seek her mother out, but he'd given Zelena enough warnings about Cora to ensure she'd not do so until she felt she could impress the woman who had given her up. Regina didn't know about her real sister, however, and Rumplestiltskin had no intention of telling her. That was Cora's problem, and Cora was not likely to want her bastard daughter united with her legitimate one. Meanwhile, he would continue to teach Regina, help her recover from Cora's wrath, and plan for the future.

* * *

><p>Well. She had always known that any curse Rumplestiltskin created had to be tricky, so Cora supposed that she should not be surprised. It was something of a miracle that the first wrinkle had waited so long to show up, and that it was as minor as a book full of so-called 'fairy tales' that were poorly disguised stories from their world. Flipping through the book told her that the stories were slightly skewed versions of the truth, ones that built up her foolish stepdaughter as a hero and Cora as a villain. As children's stories, Cora supposed they served well enough, but she would not have her grandson reading such filth. Henry was impressionable enough as it was, particularly with his indecisive father and cursed mother.<p>

Hm. Regina had been acting out a little more lately; was that another sign of time moving, or was this something else? Cora would need to study her daughter further to determine what was happening, but if there was anything she had a plethora of in Storybrooke, it was time. She had not expected Regina to act like this, however, so she would have to decide if it was time to tweak the curse slightly. Perhaps she would turn a school bully on Henry, one whom the administrators there could not stop, forcing Regina to remember that her mother did indeed have the answers to her problems. Or perhaps she should just further encourage David to discipline Henry, pulling the boy away from foolish books that he need not be interested in.

Upon walking into her own mansion, Cora dropped the fairy tale book on the front table. She didn't need to read the entire book to know what was in there, and had no desire to. She remembered well enough. In the morning, she would take it back to the library and give it back to the promiscuous librarian.

_Belle, _her memory supplied. The girl was one of those whom Cora had known nothing about prior to casting the curse; the daughter of a minor knight was hardly worth a queen's attention. But here in Storybrooke she had grown much more interesting. Somehow Lacey French had managed to catch Gold's eye, and Cora had watched their illicit relationship with much amusement over the years. The more she hurt Gold, the more quickly he turned to Lacey, and they both thought they were hiding it from her, the fools.

Still, Lacey was easy enough to intimidate, and she'd make sure the foolish librarian kept unsuitable books away from Henry in the future. That would be a simple task to accomplish come tomorrow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ Thank you again to everyone who has left a review—particularly to the guest reviewers who I can't respond to with a PM. However, for the reviewer who was concerned that Jefferson is raping Mary Margaret, no, he isn't. He's just stalking her and being creepy. Their relationship started consensual (or at least as consensual as it can get when they're cursed), but nothing like that has happened since she dumped him. _

_For the other guest who asked about David's age, I've put him about two years older than Snow. He's too young for Regina back when Cora first tries to set them up in the Enchanted Forest, but Cora doesn't care. Also, for anyone who is confused - Keith Law is the Sheriff of Nottingham._

_Next up is Chapter Nine: "Hope Amidst Darkness", in which Cora tries to bully Lacey, Henry tries to get the Book back, and Ashley Boyd maces Gold. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Rumplestiltskin and Belle plan to get married, and he takes her someplace utterly magical. _


	9. Chapter 9: Hope Amidst Darkness

_**Questions to Answer: **__I've received a lot of questions in reviews, some from anonymous reviewers, so I thought I would answer them here:_

_Is SwanQueen endgame?__ Although they'll be good friends, Regina will have StableQueen (past) and OutlawQueen (future). Emma's going to be all over the map, with a little Gremma and a little CS, and (eventually) some SwanFire. She probably won't be in a firm relationship by the end of the story, though that could change as I write._

_Where did Gabrielle (Renee)'s name come from?__ Gabrielle is named after Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, who wrote the first published version of "Beauty and the Beast."_

_Will Graham live?__ Probably. This is a very different Storybrooke from the one we know, so anything is possible._

_Who is Keith Law?__ Keith is the Sheriff of Nottingham. The show didn't give him a last name, so I improvised. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Nine—"Hope Amidst Darkness"<strong>_

* * *

><p><span><em>November 7, 2011<em>

Cora waited until she was done with work on Monday before heading to the library. After all, what was the hurry? Time might be moving, but Cora viewed that as an interesting challenge to overcome, not a threat to her power. Lacey French was hardly a force to be reckoned with, Gold's doxy or not. She might be the kind and gentle sort that a traumatized Gold turned to, but she was no match for a woman who had scraped, fought, and killed her way up from being the miller's daughter to the most feared queen in the entire Enchanted Forest. Lacey French had been no one of importance back in their world, and she continued to be insignificant here. Cora could make her disappear with the snap of her fingers, and that would not even require magic.

Power was power, after all, and Cora cultivated it in all its many forms, not just magical. So, she was fully confident when she stepped into the library, pausing to look around and see if any patrons were there. There weren't, of course; few people other than children and teachers frequented Storybrooke's Library, because that might have given some of them a measure of peace. Peace, of course, was not welcome in Storybrooke. Cora had no intention of allowing her peons to be happy. None of them had ever done anything for her. Why would she want them to be anything other than miserable?

"Miss French," she called, and watched the librarian jerk in surprise across the room. Lacey spun around, her too-bright blue eyes wide with surprise.

"Madam Mayor," she said a little shakily; Cora was pleased. "What brings you to the library?"

The librarian hurried over gratifyingly quickly, and Cora gave her a hard-edged smile. "I wanted to return a book to you."

"Oh. That's the fairy tale book I gave Henry. Is he done with it already?"

"He most certainly is," Cora snapped, and then caught herself. Queens only showed anger when they wished to, and she did not need outright threats to frighten this little girl. More calmly, Cora placed the book on the desk between them. "He will not need this book again."

"All right…" Lacey said slowly, and Cora did not appreciate the quizzical look the librarian was giving her.

"Is there something you do not understand, Miss French?" she demanded.

"No, I think I understand you just fine." But there was an edge in the reply Cora had not expected, so she specified:

"You'll not give this book back to Henry again. Is that clear?"

Lacey definitely did not take the hint; the girl only shrugged and said: "This is a library, Madam Mayor. All the books are available to everyone."

Was she really that stupid, or was the girl just pretending not to understand her? Cora wasn't certain, though she did have to remind herself that Gold's nice little woman probably had to have at least a little intelligence, otherwise she would never have kept even Rumple's cursed self interested. Of course, Gold was not nearly as complicated as Rumplestiltskin, but the curse did keep some of his more intriguing attributes intact—otherwise Cora would never have continued to be interested in him herself.

And that was another reason to dislike the little whore. Her eyes narrowed as she turned to face the librarian fully, not yet drawing on the power of the curse but gathering it to herself just in case.

"Miss French, if you want to keep your cozy little job here—and not have to answer inconvenient questions about the level of care you do or do not provide for your little brat—you'll do as I say," Cora told her bluntly, letting her eyes travel to the playpen that contained a cheerfully laughing three year old child. The little bastard was paying no attention to them, but Cora could still use her presence against Lacey if need be. "And I do not want my grandson to reading such filth."

The mention of her little brat had made Lacey flinch, and Cora knew the blow struck home. "I…I understand."

"Good," she said with another sharp-edged smile. "See that you do not forget."

"I won't." Blue eyes flicked away from hers, a clear sign of defeat, and Cora felt the sweet feeling of victory soaring through her.

"Have a nice afternoon," she told the librarian, and strode out of the library with her head held high like the queen she was.

* * *

><p>Lacey spent a few long moments in silence after the mayor left, sitting down and shaking, glancing every few seconds at Renee to make sure that her daughter was still there. She knew that she <em>shouldn't <em>be afraid of the mayor, that those threats shouldn't faze her, but one word from Cora Mills could lead to Lacey losing her job and all hope of taking care of Renee. Being the librarian didn't pay well enough for a luxurious life, but she was able to make ends meet well enough that she didn't _need _the money that Gold slipped her from time to time. Or had, anyway, before he'd started ignoring her for her own "safety". She'd been doing well before that happened, but the fact that the mayor had marched in and threatened her only made life a thousand times worse. She'd already lost Gold—what if she lost her job, and then Renee, too? Her father had already tried to force her to give up Renee for adoption more than once, and Lacey knew that her father wouldn't take them both in if she lost her job. He'd demand she give up Renee first.

But Lacey had never been the sit and cry type; after a few moments of bawling her eyes out quietly, she wiped her face, cuddled her daughter, and went back to work. There were books to be organized, and she was thinking of redecorating the children's section. It had been painted with that peeling rainbow for as long as Lacey could remember, and Ruby had offered to help her repaint it this weekend, if only she could manage to move all the books out of the way first.

"Hi, Miss French!"

Startled, Lacey spun to see the young owner of that cheerful voice and watched young Henry Nolan bounce into the library. He was all smiles and optimism, just like he always was, ready to like everyone regardless of the circumstances. Henry was the library's most frequent patron, young or old, and usually she was delighted to see him. He was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary town, and what with the way Lacey's last two weeks had been going, she really could use a pick-me-up. But after her conversation with Cora less than an hour earlier, it was all she could do not to grimace. Why _did _Cora not want Henry to read a book about fairy tales? What did she have against such stories? Some sort of recognition pricked at the edge of Lacey's mind, hovering just out of reach, but when the answer didn't come to her, she shrugged the thought away.

Henry seemed not to notice, breezing into the library with a grin on his face. "Hiya, Renee," he added, and Lacey's daughter waved in response.

"Henry!"

Everyone liked Henry, particularly Renee. And at least watching her daughter's enthusiasm could make Lacey smile wanly.

"Hello, Henry," she said. "What brings you in today? Do you need something for class?"

Deep brown eyes studied her intently, and for a moment Henry reminded her very strongly of someone, although Lacey could not think of who. "My grandmother was here, wasn't she?"

Lacey blinked. She'd always known Henry was smart, but she hadn't expected him to figure that out. "Well…yes."

"I'm sorry. She's not very nice," the youth said, plopping down in a chair and looking at Lacey solemnly. "She doesn't like my Book, does she?"

Somehow, Lacey didn't have to ask which book. The fact that Cora had been there less than an hour earlier to berate her for even daring to think that books in the library were available for loan—and one book in particular—told Lacey everything she needed to know. What it didn't do was make her understand _why _Mayor Mills was so angry; all Lacey had done was give a curious boy a book on fairy tales. Oh, the fairy tales inside that specific book were a little unorthodox. Lacey _had _read the book before giving it to Henry, and had found them strange if engaging. Henry was a special boy, though, and he had come to the library more than once to look for answers that no one seemed able to give him. So, Lacey had handed him the book and suggested he read it, hoping that he could at least find something to capture his imagination.

It seemed that she'd been successful on that front, perhaps more so than she had intended. Henry had carried that book _everywhere _for the last three weeks or so; Lacey had seen him with it in the library, at Granny's, and even walking to school with it in his hands. He seemed to be sharing it with both of his mothers, too, even the new deputy sheriff who seemed to be his birth mother. Lacey hadn't met Emma Swan yet—she tried to steer clear of the entire office thanks to Keith Law's obsession with her—but she was happy to see that Henry was connecting with her, even if it was through a book full of fairy tales. After all, Lacey had been quite an odd child herself, so she knew the feeling of being _different._

"No, she doesn't," she answered Henry's question with a little nervous laugh.

"Did she tell you not to give it back to me?" the boy asked bluntly, and Lacey gaped.

"How…how did you know that?"

He shrugged. "She doesn't like the book because it's true. All of it."

"I've read that book," Lacey reminded him, managing a real smile this time. "It's about a curse cast by an evil queen, and—"

"And she's the Evil Queen," Henry cut her off. "Don't you see it? That's why she doesn't like the Book, because it tells everyone what she did. That curse is why everyone is here, and why everyone is unhappy."

"Henry…" Lacey started to object, not sure what to say. But the ten year old only strode over to the circulation desk where the fairy tale book still sat, grabbing it and flipping through the pages until he found the right one.

"Look! You're in here."

Against her better judgment, Lacey looked at the picture that Henry was pointing at. It was a watercolor of a dark-haired girl about her own age, with long hair and blue eyes of the same shade that hers were. The artwork wasn't that good, and the features were a little cartoonish, but even Lacey could detect the resemblance between that picture and the face she saw in the mirror every morning. _Why didn't I ever see that before? _she wondered to herself. _That's from one of my favorite stories, and I love yellow dresses._ A little startled, she looked back up at the boy holding the book, and Henry grinned triumphantly.

"I bet you never noticed before, did you?" he demanded.

"No," she admitted with an awkward smile.

"That's because you can't," Henry explained. "The curse keeps you from knowing. But you're Belle from _Beauty and the Beast._ You have to be. You love books, you run the library, and you look just right. The only thing I can't figure out is Renee."

The unexpected reference to her daughter made Lacey blink. "What?"

"Well, the story's pretty straightforward. Beauty goes with the Beast to save her people from the ogres, and then they fall in love. So he lets her go, but she comes back. Then they get married—the Book gets a little vague there, something about some special town where she can't break his curse. Because the weird part in their story is that he Beast doesn't _want _his curse broken for some reason, but Belle loves him anyway," the boy recounted the story that Lacey had read at least a hundred times. She'd always liked that story the best out of the entire book, because its message wasn't about making someone change because you loved them; Beauty loved the Beast no matter what he looked like, and he loved her despite the fact that she was willful and stubborn. Theirs' wasn't a typical fairy tale—they got married but they couldn't really kiss—but it spoke to Lacey for some reason.

"You think that's _me_?" she finally managed to ask. Why did she believe any of this? But it all made sense. That story felt more real that most of her own memories did.

"Well, yeah, it's obvious," Henry said with the kind of certainty only a ten year old could muster. "But what I don't get is Renee. She's not in the story. I think she might have been misplaced."

"_Misplaced?_" Lacey demanded, not sure she liked the implication of what that meant for her beloved daughter.

"Some of the kids in my class aren't with the right families. The Evil Queen liked to split people up," he replied. Henry looked a little like he was bracing himself before he added: "I think Renee might be one of them."

A long moment passed before Lacey could find her voice. "You mean that you think Renee isn't my daughter at all," she said flatly.

"Maybe?" He looked a little guilty.

"Absolutely not." Renee had always been her daughter. Renee was the only thing in Lacey's life that really mattered, the only thing she'd ever done _right _in a very screwed up past. Almost on their own, her blue eyes traced in on her daughter, who was giggling obliviously at the puzzle she'd been working on. "That's not possible. Even if you're right—and I'm not saying you are—the story doesn't end there. There's nothing that says Beauty and the Beast can't have a daughter."

The thought of losing Renee scared her even more than the mayor's threats had.

"I dunno, Miss French." Then Henry smiled, perhaps a little too brightly. "But that means you have a True Love here in Storybrooke, and the Beast would be human here. Do you have any idea who he might be?"

"I…I have no idea," she stuttered, her mind still full of the idea of losing her daughter. Henry really was good at throwing her for loops today.

"Will you think about it?"

Lacey swallowed hard, pushing her fears aside. "Sure."

"Thanks!" Henry beamed. "It's nice to have someone else to talk about this with. Emma thinks I'm crazy, and Mom…well, Mom has to deal with my grandmother, and that's no picnic."

"I imagine it isn't," she answered automatically. _No one _was going to take Renee from her. No matter what. Lacey wasn't going to let that happen.

"Grandma told you not to give me the Book back, right?" Henry asked suddenly, and _that _managed to cut through the fog in Lacey's mind.

"I can't risk my job over a book, Henry," she said softly, glancing back at her daughter once more.

"Then…why don't you go pay attention to Renee, and then you won't know who borrowed it?" the clever boy suggested. "If you don't see me take it, you don't know, right?"

"Henry…"

"If Grandma sees me with it, I'll tell her I stole it," he replied brightly. "I promise."

She didn't know why she went along with it. Common sense said that she shouldn't, that she shouldn't believe a moment of Henry's wild tales about fairy tales being true and the entire town being under a curse. But Lacey _wanted _to. If Henry had not brought up the possibility of Renee being someone else's daughter, she would probably have believed him wholeheartedly, because that book had always seemed so very real to her. Lacey had felt out of place her entire life, like she didn't quite belong and almost no one understood her. The only one who ever seemed to understand her at all was Gold, and the dreamer inside her desperately wanted to know there was a better world waiting out there, something nicer than this terrifying little town where one woman could so easily ruin so many lives.

Lacey French was afraid of Cora Mills, but she turned her back and let Henry take the fairy tale book, anyway. After all, the Belle from the stories was strong and brave. Maybe Lacey could be like that.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

Gaston had not returned, nor had any kind of word. They had sent him back to Avonlea over two months earlier, along with a letter and an enchanted box that would instantly deliver letters to the Dark Castle once they were put inside. He _should _have reached Belle's father more than three weeks ago, even if traveling conditions had been terrible, and that meant that Sir Maurice had not wanted to reply. For his own part, Rumplestiltskin didn't particularly care if Sir Maurice wanted to wish them both straight to hell, but he knew that her father was important to Belle, so he kept such thoughts to himself, awkwardly taking her hands when she sighed:

"I just wish Papa would have sent _something_. I told him I love you, and that I just wanted his blessing. Is that so hard?"

"Most people only see the monster in me, sweetheart," he answered her honestly, reaching up to touch her cheek as Belle leaned into his chest with a sigh. "Your father probably thinks I've bewitched you."

She snorted. "You wouldn't know how to seduce a woman if your life depended on it, Rumple."

"I do have a _little _more experience than that," Rumplestiltskin objected before he could think the better of it.

"That's why _I _had to kiss you," Belle retorted, tipping her head back to look at him with the blue eyes that always threatened to make Rumplestiltskin forget all the reasons for holding onto his curse. "And that's why _I _had to tell _you _that I wanted to marry you. Because left to your own devices, you would never have asked."

"I would have—" he started, only to have her cut him off with a giggle.

"Eventually," she agreed. "Probably, anyway."

"Belle!" Dark Ones did not whine, so if his voice got a little high-pitched on that objection, well, there was no particular reason.

Her smile could have provided enough light for a thousand suns. "It's all right," she said softly, moving a hand to place it on his heart. "I love you the way you are, but _I'm _not waiting any longer. It's Papa's loss if he doesn't want to come. So take me away, Rumplestiltskin, to this magical place in which you say we can get married."

He did not need to be told twice.

* * *

><p>Head spinning, Rumplestiltskin picked himself up off of the floor, making it into a sitting position before he had to stop to catch his breath. She'd <em>maced <em>him. Little Princess Ella had scraped up the spine to attack him and steal that contract, the one that the curse had so adeptly written for Mr. Gold. He had warned the girl back in the Enchanted Forest, had told her that one way or another he _would _make sure their deal was fulfilled. He didn't want the child, of course—never had—but Rumplestiltskin wanted what the deal would get him here in the Land Without Magic. And he was so damn close that it hurt.

So did his head. Raising a shaking hand to touch his head, Rumplestiltskin realized that he was bleeding. Had that silly girl—? No. The memory was becoming clearer. He'd done this to himself, hitting his head on the counter as he fell. The rapid stinging in his eyes, however, was all Ella's doing. Or Ashley Boyd's. The meek, frightened little maid was definitely starting to show more characteristics of her true self, and that was good. Time was moving, and things were changing. _People _were changing, little by little, returning to who they were meant to be. Under other circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would be pleased by that development, but right now he was more than a little annoyed by Ella's boldness.

Well. At least things were moving along. Ashley would run, and the Savior would track her down. He hadn't had the chance to meet Miss Swan yet, but Ashley having stolen the contract would give Gold the perfect opportunity to call upon their new deputy sheriff. Then Emma would prove that she was indeed the Charmings' daughter, and he would have the favor he needed, the one he had set this entire deal up to get.

"_It's not about the child," he explained to a fuming Belle, hands up and trying to placate his very put out True Love. "She'll _never_ give me the child, and _that's_ what I want."_

"_Then why the trickery?" Belle asked, her anger a little mollified. At least she wasn't looking at him like he was a stranger, anymore, not the way she had been a few moments earlier. "Why not just ask for what you want?"_

"_Because it's not Princess Ella or her feckless prince who are going to give me what I want."_

_Belle cocked her head. "I don't understand."_

_Rumplestiltskin smiled. "She won't have the child until after we're in the Land Without Magic," he explained. "And it's the Savior, the Charmings' little girl, who will make deal to save her. I don't know the details yet, but that much I know."_

"_I think you're making this more complicated that it has to be," she laughed at him teasingly._

"_You have no idea, sweetheart," he replied, laughing with her. "Just wait until I let them lock me up."_

"_You _what_?"_

Shaking himself free of the memory—an effort that only made his aching head hurt more—Rumplestiltskin levered himself to his feet, finding his cane along the way and swaying only slightly. He would make his next move in the morning, would go visit Miss Swan and Miss Blancard's loft and then enlist the Savior to find their runaway princess. It would be his first real move since waking up, Rumplestiltskin's reemergence on the board as a player in the game. Cora would not detect the importance of this tiny favor because it was in keeping with Gold's character, but it would be the first step to defeating her.

And then his phone rang, effectively taking Rumplestiltskin out of play for the rest of the evening and the following morning.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

The horseless carriage left them outside the gates to the small town, and a quartet of people rushed out to meet them, all smiles and breezy greetings. Belle peered curiously out of the carriage window, looking around Rumplestiltskin with eyes wide in wonder. "Where _are_ we?"

"Amorveria," he replied, hopping out of the carriage and relishing his ability to move so freely. It would only last another few moments, so Rumplestiltskin reminded himself to enjoy that were it lasted. "The one town in the Enchanted Forest where no magic works…except for True Love."

The quartet of footmen were dressed in identical livery, and as Rumplestiltskin handed Belle down from the carriage, they absconded with the luggage off the back of the coach, carrying it through the gates and off towards the cottage Rumplestiltskin had rented. Belle watched them with barely concealed excitement, her eyes wide and her hand tight on Rumplestiltskin's arm. Just watching her so happy made his heart flutter in his chest, his worn black heart that was so open and vulnerable to this amazing woman.

"It really exists?" she asked breathlessly. "I thought you were just pulling my leg."

"Oh, no," he answered, grinning back. "I did promise you someplace magical, did I not?"

"Anywhere with you is magical."

His smile was so huge that it hurt his face, but Rumplestiltskin offered Belle his arm, summoning a gentleman's walking stick to his right hand as he did so. He had been to Amorveria before, and Rumplestiltskin knew what the town's peculiar lack of magic would do to him once he stepped through its gates. He had come here once, over a century previously, in search of rare ingredients to make a binding potion for some noblewoman or another with a wandering husband. Then, he hadn't believed the rumors about Amorveria, but once Rumplestiltskin had stepped inside the town—and almost fallen flat on his face—he had been forced to accept the fact that the stories were true. All of them.

"So, where to?" Belle asked, pressing her hip against his as they stepped through the stone archway over the open gates. "I mean, where to first, since you said we are—_oh_."

He had been prepared for the transition this time, with the walking stick firmly in his right hand and there to steady himself. Still, the feeling of magic seeping out of his bones was anything but pleasant, particularly because it lacked the beautiful surge of power that had accompanied Belle's kiss. At least the process was quick; he could feel the curse retreating further and further inside him until only the barest whisper remained. It wasn't broken, nor even truly cowed, but the curse of the Dark One _was _muted here. Quickly, scales vanished beneath pale skin, blackened teeth were replaced by human ones, and his claws turned to normal nails. The transition left him breathless and leaning more heavily on Belle than he wanted to, but his fiancée was staring at him with huge blue eyes.

"Rumple?" she asked softly.

He turned to face her, favoring his right leg a little as he reacquainted himself with how to use this sort of cane. "Still here, sweetheart. I told you that the only magic that works here is True Love. Even my curse is…quiet."

"Is this what you looked like before?" Belle breathed, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes." Rumplestiltskin swallowed, starting to wonder if this was a good idea. While he'd wanted to give Belle something he could not do under normal circumstances, and he'd planned out this grand romantic gesture—he had never once thought about how she might react to _him._ To the spinner he'd been. To the coward, the human, the man who Milah had said made her so miserable. He tried a self-deprecating smile. "I know it's not much—"

"I think you're very handsome," Belle cut him off, and Rumplestiltskin blinked in surprise. Even Milah had never said that, at least not that he could remember.

"You do?" he managed to stutter.

Her smile was soft. "Of course I do."

Rumplestiltskin didn't know what to say. He could only stand and stare at Belle, with now his eyes wide and uncomprehending. Soft fingers reached out, tracing his cheek gently, and Rumplestiltskin leaned into her touch, feeling peace steal through his very tattered soul. Before he knew it, his eyes slid shut, and for a moment, all he felt was _love._

"I love you," he whispered, opening his eyes.

Belle's smile was brilliant, if a little shy. "And I you," she replied. "Human or Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, I love _you._"

He had never thought he'd have this, never once thought _anyone _could love him so completely or so purely. But here Belle was, with her heart shining through in her eyes, glowing with love for him. He was a monster and a villain, someone who had been abandoned time and again—but not this time. Not this woman. Perhaps it was because his curse was quieter here; he could barely hear its whispers in his mind, and only then if he concentrated. Or perhaps his love for Belle was strong enough to give him strength he'd never had before.

"Then come marry me," Rumplestiltskin said softly, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"I'd like nothing better."

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! It inspired me to write a truly huge amount over the weekend (over 17,000 words!), and I can't thank you enough._

_Next up is Chapter Ten: "The Deals We Make," where Emma tries to help Ashley Boyd and winds up meeting Mr. Gold, which leads to a miserable encounter between Lacey and Gold. Henry tries to help, and Regina gets in an argument with her old mentor. Meanwhile in the past, Rumplestiltskin and Belle finally get married._


	10. Chapter 10: The Deals We Make

_**Questions to Answer: **_

_Will Baelfire/Neal show up:__ He certainly will. New child or not, Rumplestiltskin's end goal is still getting to his son, and he'll move mountains to make that happen. Unfortunately, Cora does know this._

_Why Gabrielle (Renee) isn't in the Book:__ Whoever wrote the book could only put in what they knew, and Rumplestiltskin and Belle went to great lengths to make sure their daughter's existence remained a secret._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Ten—"The Deals We Make"<strong>_

* * *

><p>In hindsight, Emma supposed this was a really bad idea. She'd <em>meant <em>well, back when she'd met Ashley Boyd at Granny's the day before. All she'd asked was why a girl who was obviously so far along in her pregnancy was still working, and next she'd known, Emma had been listening to a sob story about how Ashley didn't have a choice, because no one was there to help her, and besides, she was giving up the child anyway, so what did it matter? She certainly hadn't meant for Ashely to try running away from town after their conversation, but the young mother-to-be had done just that. She was only lucky that Emma had found her while she'd been out on some pointless patrol Keith had foisted off on her when he didn't want to do it, following up on an anonymous call about a car crash near the town line. Whoever had called had been too much of a jerk to help out himself, but there Ashley had been, having crashed Ruby's car and desperate to get out of Storybrooke.

But there hadn't been time. There'd barely been time to get Ashley to the hospital before she'd given birth, and then Doctor Whale had yelled at _Emma _for making things take so long. She only managed to refrain from strangling him because he seemed to be a good doctor when he wasn't leering, or at least he talked like one. Emma really hoped he was as Whale kicked her out of the delivery room, sighing and heading out into the waiting room. One birth had been enough for her; Emma didn't see any reason to stick around for someone else's, even if Ashley's deadbeat ex-boyfriend couldn't be bothered to be there for her.

Slumping into a chair—it had been a long day already and was only getting longer—Emma glanced down at the contract she'd found tucked into Ashley's purse. It explained everything: why Ashley had run, what was supposed to happen to her child, and what the financial consequences for breaking the contract were. There was no way a poor maid working at the local bed and breakfast had fifty thousand dollars stashed away to _buy _her baby back from those who had planned on adopting her. Emma found the entire episode distasteful, but the contract seemed pretty watertight now that she read it.

Legally, on the other hand, she wasn't sure it was going to—

"Ah, so I see that you found my missing contract, Miss Swan," a cultured voice intruded on her thoughts, and Emma's head snapped up.

The infamous Mr. Gold wasn't nearly as intimidating at first glance as gossip in town implied he was. Emma hadn't met the man yet, but she'd heard plenty about Mary Margaret's landlord and chief creditor, and she had expected him to be much taller. Instead, he was a slender man dressed impeccably in a dark suit, complete with a gold-handled cane and a maroon tie. But he walked like a man who 'owned half the town' as Mary Margaret had said, someone who was sure of his own power and influence.

"Your contract?" Emma echoed, getting to her feet as she flipped to the back page. Sure enough, down at the bottom of the page, right underneath Ashley's messy signature was a scrawled 'R. Gold'.

"Indeed. I assume that Miss Boyd has safely made it into delivery?" he asked smoothly, but there was something about his demeanor that set Emma's teeth on edge. _No wonder Mary Margaret doesn't like him. She's too _nice _to deal with someone like this._

"She doesn't want to give up her child," Emma replied bluntly, meeting his eyes squarely.

"Well, that's too bad. She was more than eager to sign the contract, I assure you." Gold smiled enigmatically, gesturing at the papers Emma still held. "As you can see."

"I don't care. You're not getting that kid." There. She'd put it on the line. Now it was time to see how scary the big bad Mr. Gold really was.

"Actually, we have an agreement," Gold countered easily. His expression was still hard to read, but the man exuded confidence. "And my agreements are always honored. If not, I'm going to have to file charges, and that baby is going to end up in the system. And that would be a pity. You didn't enjoy your time in the system, did you Emma?"

Oh. He hadn't just gone there, had he? And how did he _know_ about that? Emma had only told Henry and Regina about her past, and there was no way this loan shark should know about it. Her eyes narrowed. "That's not gonna happen."

Gold just chuckled. "I like your confidence. Charming, but all I have to do is press charges. She did, after all, break into my shop."

"She what?" Damn, now there was something Emma had to care about as a deputy sheriff. Why had she taken that job, anyway?

"Indeed." Gold pushed hair away from his forehead, revealing a newly-made gash.

"Why didn't you report that?" Emma asked suspiciously.

"Because it only happened last night, and I spent most of the night lying unconscious on the floor," he replied, and didn't the man just have an answer for everything?

"Let me guess," she snarled. "She did it to steal a contract?"

"Who knows what she was after?"

The bastard was smart; Emma had to give him that. But Emma wasn't in the mood to back down today, so she met his innocent shrug with a glare.

"You know, no jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child," she pointed out. "I'm willing to roll the dice that contract doesn't stand up. Are you? Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?"

She didn't expect him to chuckle as he paced, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I like you, Ms. Swan," Gold said. "You're not afraid of me, and that's either cocky or presumptuous. Either way I'd rather have you on my side."

"So she can keep the baby?"

"Not just yet. There's still the matter of my agreement with Ms. Boyd."

Emma shrugged. "Tear it up."

He spread his hands, the picture of dangerous innocence. "That's not what I do. You see, contracts, deals, well they're the very foundation of all civilized existence, so I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?"

A sinking feeling started to form in the pit of her stomach, the one that always told Emma she was heading towards rocky waters. But then again, it was also the feeling she had always ignored. Life was for living, and risks existed to be taken. After all, she'd had that feeling in her stomach when she'd tried to leave Storybrooke after Regina dared her to, and even though it hadn't worked, Emma was always willing to try. So, she met Gold's gaze squarely, refusing to give an inch.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Another smile; another shrug. "Oh I don't know just yet," he replied casually. "Let's say…you'll owe me a favor."

Emma studied him for a moment, but really, how bad could things be? Though she did make a mental note to ask Regina for details—and dirt, hopefully—on Gold. Her instincts said that the man was being both truthful and that he was every bit as dangerous as everyone said, and that meant Emma wanted as much ammunition as she could get. He didn't _look _frightening, not at first glance, but there was something steely in his eyes that gave her the shivers. He was certainly cagey, and seemed to be smarter than half the town put together. _No wonder they all owe him money, if he can run circles around them so easily_. She squared her shoulders.

"Deal."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Swan." Gold inclined his head to her, rather politely for a man who had just wished fifty thousand bucks away for a favor.

Maybe he wanted more than one. If so, Emma would gladly grant another to free Mary Margaret of some of her debt to this hard-edged man. Owing him wasn't going to be fun, Emma knew, but she'd done far dumber things in her twenty-eight years. She'd survive. Besides,_ someone _in this miserable little town had to show some basic human decency, because that seemed to be in very short supply here in Storybrooke.

"Is Ashley all right?" a new voice asked before Emma could tell Gold that the pleasure definitely wasn't hers, and Emma turned to look at the town librarian.

She'd only met Lacey French once before, and she'd seemed like a nice enough woman then. Quiet and a little heavy on the wide-eyed innocence, perhaps, but nice enough. Henry seemed to think that Lacey was the smartest person in the entire town, though Emma wasn't sure she'd go that far. Still, Lacey was a lot more pleasant to talk to than Gold, so Emma turned to face her and ignored the pawnbroker. He could go hang himself for all she cared.

"Yeah, she's in delivery now," she answered.

"Good." Lacey smiled in relief. "I heard she was in an accident, and I didn't want her to be alone."

Okay, make that _one _person in the entire town who apparently had a heart. Aside from Henry, and maybe Regina on a good day. Emma liked Lacey French more by the moment.

"She should be out soon," she reassured the librarian. "I didn't know you two were friends."

"Sort of," Lacey admitted. "More lately than before. "But I know what it's like to face this by yourself, and it's never easy."

"You're tellin' me," Emma breathed in agreement just as Henry ran in.

"Emma! Has she given birth yet?"

"Not yet, kiddo. This stuff doesn't happen fast, you know." Her son scowled, and Emma tried not to laugh.

"I know," he informed her like she was an idiot. "I'm not _that _young."

Man, how did parents do this all the time? She was always treating Henry like he was too old or two young. There was a sweet spot somewhere, but Emma had yet to find it. She'd told Ashley earlier than parenthood was _hard_, and Emma was discovering that for herself every day she stayed in Storybrooke. But she was also slowly becoming very happy with her decision to stick around. Maybe she would have made a terrible mom if she'd tried to do what Ashley was now doing, but Henry showing up on her doorstep had been a second chance, and Emma wasn't going to throw away the opportunity to be a part of her son's life.

Even if being a part of that life only meant sitting next to him as Henry popped a comic book open, clearly content to wait for Ashely to finish giving birth. He wasn't reading the fairy tale book here, at least, but Emma had a feeling that was only because of his grandmother's attempt to take it away from him. Henry had said that the mayor had gone so far as to threaten Lacey over it, but Henry had snuck the book back out of the library. Thinking of that made Emma turn to look at Lacey again, only to find that—much to Emma's surprise—Lacey had approached Gold.

"What happened to your face?" Lacey asked quietly, gesturing at the cut.

Gold shrugged coolly. "Nothing that need concern you."

That response seemed to surprise the librarian; she looked at him with concern and confusion both, blue eyes wide. "You're hurt," she objected. "Was it…?"

"No," Gold cut her off sharply, brown eyes flashing. Had Emma been Lacey, the look on his face might have been enough to make her step back, but Lacey only reached out, obviously moving to touch his forehead near the cut.

Gold caught her wrist, and Lacey yelped in surprise.

"I am not your concern, dear," he said softly, venom dripping from each word. "How many times do I need to tell you that?"

The librarian was brave; she yanked away. "At least one more," she shot back, but Emma could see tears filling her eyes.

"Then consider it said."

Most women would have run; Lacey French stepped in close to Gold, fury plain on her pretty face.

"You're a coward," she whispered, and Emma had to strain to hear her. "You could have something _wonderful _if only you'd let yourself. But instead you hide behind that mask of indifference and wonder why everyone thinks you're a monster. And you're going to regret this for the rest of your life."

Gold looked too shocked to say a word, and Lacey spun and stalked out—heading deeper into the hospital—before he had the chance to, anyway. By then, Henry was staring, too, but he sat as silently as Emma did while Gold shrugged slightly and then turned to limp out of the waiting room as well. His air was that of a man who didn't give a damn about the words flung in his face, but Emma had seen enough hard-edged people to know the difference. There was something going on there, and she was going to find out what.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Do you, Rumplestiltskin, promise to take this woman as your wife, and love her for all eternity?"

His heart hammered so hard against his ribcage that Rumplestiltskin thought it might burst. Here he stood, as human as before he took on the curse that would change his life, holding hands with his True Love as she smiled at him. "I do," he whispered.

"And do you, Belle, promise to take this man as your husband, and to love him for all eternity?" the mayor of Amorveria asked.

"I do," Belle answered, her voice clear and strong.

"Then you may kiss the bride," the mayor said, and Rumplestiltskin felt his face split into a wild grin. _This _was why he had brought Belle here; Amorveria was the one place in any magical realm where he could kiss his True Love without risk of losing his power. Here he could give her, just for a little while, the love she truly deserved, without strings attached or a monster burying the man she was marrying. While Rumplestiltskin was not entirely sure of himself, of the man he would be without the curse—and he never would be, because even now he could feel the darkness coiled up within his soul, patiently waiting to return—he could give Belle at least this much. And he could kiss her.

Magic rolled off the pair as their lips touched, first tentatively and then more hungrily. This was not like their first uncertain kiss, when both had been groping towards their feelings for one another and both had been afraid. No, this was four months later, four months of trials and arguments, of learning and loving and getting to know one another without the fiction of employer and maid standing in the way. This was True Love, a golden _whoosh _of power arching off of them and filling the air around them, almost overloading Rumplestiltskin's senses with power and light. Belle's arms slipped around his neck as his hands tangled gently in her hair, and together they took advantage of the one place they could indulge in this otherwise forbidden expression of love.

Rumplestiltskin lost track of how many times they kissed, smiling and holding one another and grinning like idiots. He would have given Belle a grand wedding, would have invited half of the Enchanted Forest, had she asked, but all she had wanted was _him_. So he had brought her to Amorveria, the town were only the magic of True Love worked, the one place where he could kiss her and be human for her, just for a little while. In this sheltered little town, whose inhabitants rarely left and which received very few visitors, no one looked at them twice. They were only a _married _couple who shared True Love. These people did not know him as the Dark One, and they did not care that Belle was a brave woman who had given up her freedom to serve a monster. The people here only took that kiss at face value, recognizing it for what it was and giving them space to seal their union.

"This is the best wedding present you could have given me," Belle whispered when they finally drew far enough away from one another for speech.

Rumplestiltskin smiled and kissed her again, lightly this time, with the kiss full of promise. "I'm only getting started, sweetheart."

"Oh?"

Her enthusiasm was infectious. "Oh," he confirmed. "I've rented a cottage on the edge of town, one overlooking the ocean. Just for us."

"I've never seen the ocean," Belle admitted.

"I know." She'd wanted adventure; Belle had gotten a monster in exchange. The least he could do was give her this. Rumplestiltskin offered her his arm again. "Shall we?"

"How long can we stay?" she all but bounced in excitement as they began to walk, their hips brushing against one another and shoulders touching. Even with his limp, Rumplestiltskin reveled in being so close to her, in not having to weather the incessant whispers of his curse screaming _danger _every time Belle's face came near his. He would never tell her how the demon within him hated her, wanted her, burned to devour her as much as it demanded to kill her. Belle didn't need to know that; she was burdened enough by loving him. Here, however, it was so much easier.

"How long do you want to?" he asked lightly. His plans could weather a month or two's absence, Rumplestiltskin knew.

"Forever," she breathed, blue eyes shining.

Part of him wanted to say yes. Part of Rumplestiltskin knew that he could live with her, live in peace and grow used to the almost-silent whispers in the back of his mind. He _could _stay here forever, and perhaps he might even learn to be happy. He was terrible at it, but maybe Belle could teach him, and Rumplestiltskin could actually accept a life that was…_empty. _Empty because it would be without his son. That realization hit him hard, with guilt rocking him back on his heels and making him stumble to a stop in mid-stride.

Belle must have seen the look on his face, though, because she squeezed his arm. "I know we can't stay that long," she said gently, moving up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "You still have to find your son."

"Yes. Yes, I do," he replied, his throat thick with memories.

"And I'll help you. Every step of the way. You're not alone, anymore, Rumple. Never again," Belle said, and her smile was enough to lift his spirits.

"Never again," he agreed.

"A few weeks, then? she asked, tugging him forward. They resumed walking, smiling at one another and heading towards the cottage by the water he had rented.

"A month, if you like," he replied. "Or two, even."

"Oh, Rumple." She stopped and kissed him again. "I love you."

* * *

><p>"What was that?" Emma asked Henry as Gold made his way towards the door. But her kid only shrugged.<p>

"Dunno."

She narrowed her eyes. "I thought you knew everything about this town."

"Well, _almost _everything," Henry replied, and then suddenly jumped to his feet, abandoning his comic book. "I have an idea."

"Henry—" But Emma didn't grab for him fast enough, and before she knew it, Henry was chasing after Lacey. Meanwhile, Regina walked in, almost colliding with Gold while she was at it, and the two glared at one another for a moment before Regina said:

"We need to talk, Gold."

"Well, I'm ever at your service, dear," he replied in that same cool tone, the one that said he wasn't saying a thousand things and immediately got under Emma's skin. But Regina seemed unaffected, only arching an eyebrow and waiting. Gold gestured, and the pair left the room together.

Sighing, Emma rose from the uncomfortable plastic chair and figured that she ought to follow Henry. They undoubtedly had some time yet before Ashley was able to receive visitors, and poor Lacey French really didn't need a ten year old trying to comfort her with whatever _idea _he'd gotten. So, Emma grabbed Henry's forgotten comic book and headed down the hall. Tracking the pair down wasn't hard—they were in the next waiting room over, the one for pediatrics—just in time to hear Henry saying:

"It's not his fault, you know. Not if he's the Beast. You two aren't _supposed _to get a happy ending here."

Lacey looked like she'd been crying, only a little, but she smiled a little crookedly. "Because of the curse?"

"Yeah. That's how it works," Henry told her, and Emma just wanted to shake her kid. Stories about his curse weren't going to help the girl get over an obvious case of rejection.

"Henry, that's nice of you to say, but no curse is going to decide my fate," Lacey replied, standing up from where she'd been sitting next to him. "And neither is anyone else."

Henry beamed. "That's good! That's Belle coming through, and not your cursed self. Belle even said something like that in my book."

Much to Emma's surprise, Lacey laughed, reaching out to squeeze Henry's shoulder. There was still a lot of sadness in her expression, but damn that girl was strong. "Well, I knew I liked her," she said, and gave Emma a bit of a strained smile over Henry's head. "Now I need to go. Ruby's watching Renee, and you know what kind of a disaster could happen if I leave them alone in the library for too long. Give Ashely my best, okay?"

"I will," Henry promised. "Will you think about what I said?"

"I always will, Henry," Lacey promised.

* * *

><p>Regina was giving him one of those looks, one of the ones that said her teeth were on edge and her patience was at an end. Rumplestiltskin knew her too well, knew that she was getting sick of waiting and even sicker of her mother. But his thoughts were elsewhere; the words he had said to Belle—<em>Lacey!<em>—kept running through his head. He'd been cruel. Needlessly so, and he'd hurt her terribly. He had deserved every word she spat at him in response, when she'd called him a coward and stormed away. Rumplestiltskin had promised to love Belle for all eternity, and now look what he had done. He had hurt her, and she would be well within her rights to never forgive that.

"Are you even _listening _to me, Gold?" Regina demanded as the pair stopped in a deserted hallway.

"Frankly, no. You're going to have to repeat whatever your current complaint is," he replied with a shrug, hauling himself back on balance with an effort.

Regina glared.

"Is this _really _necessary?" she asked, obviously not for the first time. "You and your favors. Did you really have to go through all that rigmarole, antagonizing Emma and pulling her attention away from breaking the curse?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper on that last part; Regina was angry, not stupid. For his part, however, Rumplestiltskin was still thinking on what he had said to the woman he loved, of her reaction and of his own pain. Damn the favor he'd known he needed; it didn't seem to matter now. His actions might have kept Belle safe, but at what cost?

Yet Regina was waiting impatiently for an answer, so Rumplestiltskin dredge up a grim smile. "I'm sorry, were you under the impression that breaking this curse would be easy?" he asked, folding his hands on his cane and peering at her. "I seem to recall telling you the exact opposite when you decided that you wanted to help."

"If I'd left you to shepherd things through on your own, Emma would destroy the town rather than save it," his former student snapped.

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly. "Well, I wouldn't go that far." She was stubborn, their savior, but he could see a dozen ways to manipulate her—if only he'd been free to act.

"You haven't seen her temper," Regina shot back. "And _I _get to deal with it, now, thanks to you. So what the hell did you need a favor for so damn much, anyway?"

"I have my reasons."

"Don't start with me, Rumple. I'm not in the mood for riddles!"

"Neither am I, dear," he snapped, his own patience wearing thin. Regina shouldn't have needed to hear this, but apparently it needed saying. "Not everything we do can be focused on breaking the curse. Some of it must be in keeping with the situations your mother set up. _I _am not going to break a deal just because your darling niece asked me nicely—which she did not, I might add. Your mother knows that."

"My mother—"

"Is in control," Rumplestiltskin cut her off. "Never forget that. The curse may have weakened slightly with Emma's arrival, but it is _still _Cora's curse. Do not allow yourself to become complacent."

"Complacent? I'm the one doing all the work," she hissed, rolling her eyes.

Ah. There was the rub, there was what was annoying Regina so much.

"This is your family you're trying to save," he pointed out, evading the real reasons why he'd dumped the hard parts of this crusade on Regina. But she was too smart, this protégée of his, and knew him too well.

"You expected this," she realized with wide eyes. "You _knew _she'd have some sort of hold on you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he scoffed.

"You're still sleeping with her," Regina accused him.

Rumplestiltskin couldn't help himself; he looked away.

"What hold _does _she have on you?" Regina asked quietly, sounding more worried than hostile.

But he didn't want her compassion. "Not your business," Rumplestiltskin snapped, turning to walk away and adding before she could follow: "Go see to Miss Swan. Make sure she doesn't _actually_ manage to destroy the town while we're busy trying to save it."

* * *

><p><span><em>11 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Why do you live alone?" Regina wondered aloud. She'd stayed away from such asking personal questions of the fascinating sorcerer who had become her mentor, but she was comfortable enough with him now that Regina didn't stop herself.

Rumplestiltskin giggled, but the laugh was a little off. "Why would I not?" he countered. Regina shot him a look.

Could her mother _really _have been lovers with this…creature? Cora certainly had implied as much just two days earlier.

"_Did you learn that from Rumplestiltskin? You're quite good at it," Cora asked during one of their magic lessons, and Regina froze. She'd been so careful these past two years, never letting her mother know that the imp was also teaching her magic, filling in the gaps Cora intentionally left. But now she'd slipped up, and Cora pounced like the predator she was._

_Regina hesitated a moment too long before replying, struggling to find some sort of excuse and failing._

"_Don't bother denying it, darling. I've known for months that you're going to him, and I'm pleased. He did teach me, after all."_

"_He said," Regina ground out from between gritted teeth._

_Cora smiled mysteriously. "Did he mention that he was almost your father?"_

"You didn't always," she replied, pulling her mind back to the present. "You and my mother—"

"Are done," he snapped.

"Mother's always been rough on men," Regina agreed, thinking of her beaten down father, of all the hearts her mother had collected and of poor, enchanted Leopold. But Rumplestiltskin scowled.

"Told you about us, did she?" It was interesting how his voice went less high pitched when he wasn't grandstanding. Regina thought he actually sounded human, now.

"Not much," she admitted. "But she did kill Daddy to marry Leopold. I know what she's like."

The Dark One only snorted, so Regina pressed on:

"That doesn't explain why you're so lonely, though," she said to the man who would never replace her beloved father but at least offered her someone to turn to. Somehow, knowing that Rumplestiltskin had almost been her father put their relationship into focus, and although Regina knew her mother had been trying to unsettle her, the knowledge actually made her more comfortable, not less. "Couldn't there, uh, be someone else?"

Not that there was for her after Daniel, but she was quite certain _no one _could feel that way for her mother. Daniel was her True Love. Cora was a poison, and Rumplestiltskin clearly knew that, judging from his reaction. But the question seemed to spook him, and Rumplestiltskin shook himself, his eyes wide before they skittered off to study some tapestry on the wall.

"I do better alone," he answered quietly.

"That's hardly…" _Fair. Living?_ What did he live for, other than magic? Regina felt an unexpected surge of pity for her teacher.

"Let's get back to your lesson," he said instead of going anywhere near the subject, and Regina let him distract her with magic. She was _so _close to figuring out how to free Leopold from her mother's spells, and she would not let Snow down now.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Thank you again to everyone who left a review, and particularly to the anonymous reviewers who I can't send a note to._

_Stay tuned for Chapter Eleven: "Dreams and Destruction," in which Emma and Graham get to know one another, Mary Margaret faces off with Jefferson, and Rumplestiltskin does what he knows he should not. In the past, Belle and Rumplestiltskin have a talk about the nature of their child, and Cora manipulates the Hatter into doing her bidding._


	11. Chapter 11: Dreams and Destruction

_**Questions to Answer: **_

_Why Does Rumplestiltskin feel guilt at his wedding? He feels guilty because he can't give Belle 'forever' without his curse, and that a part of him actually _wants _to stay in Amorveria with her. But he can't do that if he wants to find his son, which leaves him with a very hard decision. _

_How long might it take Cora to realize Belle and Rumplestiltskin (or Lacey and Gold) are True Love? Honestly, I don't think it will ever occur to Cora that Rumplestiltskin might find True Love. She thinks she knows him too well for that._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Eleven—"Dreams and Destruction"<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Bye, Emma!" Henry dashed out of the diner to catch the school bus, and she watched him go with a tired smile.<p>

Two days after Ashley gave birth—and her deadbeat ex-boyfriend had miraculously grown some moral courage—Emma had just finished the second of three back to back night shifts. She was already feeling the burn, the grit behind her eyeballs and the feeling of being out of synch with everyone else. Eating breakfast with Henry was odd when she had been up for over sixteen hours, and she'd have been in bed already if today wasn't the day she always ate breakfast with him. This arrangement gave both David and Regina the ability to get to work a little earlier, and let Emma have some time with her son. It usually worked out very well, and Emma was happy with the schedule she'd worked out with her son's adopted parents…except when she was in the middle of three consecutive late shifts.

Being the new guy at the sheriff's office really sucked in a lot of ways. She got all the odd jobs neither Graham nor Keith wanted to do, was assigned patrols out in the middle of nowhere that had to be done but they were both too busy for, and pretty much got to fetch coffee most other days. It was even less fun when Keith managed to dump his late shifts on her, particularly when Mr. Herbert Wall managed to somehow collapse the outer wall of his detached garage on himself in the middle of the night. His paranoid neighbor, Aesop Wolfe, had called the sheriff's station because he was convinced robbers were digging through Wall's garage to get to _his _house, so it had been a long night.

At least something had happened. Emma hadn't believed the stories about Mr. Wolfe until she'd gotten that panicked call, but now she was starting to get it.

"Cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream?" a familiar voice asked, and Emma blinked as a full mug replaced the empty one she'd been staring at.

"Oh. Hi."

Graham slipped into the seat across from her in the booth she had continued to blankly occupy after Henry's departure. "I hear Mr. Wolfe lived up to his name again," he said with a smile. "Long night?"

"Yeah. I had to get Forrester and his boys out to dig Wall out from under his garage, too. He said that's the _third _time a wall has fallen on him. How _does _that happen?"

"I don't know," Graham laughed. "Things like that happen in Storybrooke, I guess."

"Tell me about it," Emma groused, and then had to ask: "Why the hell did you let Keith dump _both _of his late shifts on me, anyway?"

Graham was a good boss, but sometimes he was a bit oblivious, and this seemed to be one of them. Her question made him blink. "I, uh—he did? _Both _of them?"

"Yeah. Two days ago and tonight. Makes my night shift from last night extra special," she replied a little testily.

"I'll talk to him," her boss replied, obviously a little embarrassed. "He'll take tonight. That was supposed to be _my _shift, and Keith said he could cover me, not that he'd give it to you."

Emma shrugged. "He whined and said something about having a hot date with the librarian."

Graham snorted. "Lacey wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. He's dreaming."

"I didn't ask."

"I'll fix this," Graham promised. "You go home and get some sleep. You look beat."

"Thanks," Emma replied gratefully, making a mental note to ask Henry who Graham was supposed to be. Not that she actually believed any of this fairy tale stuff, but at least someone in this crazy town was actually _nice._ It did poke holes in Henry's theory of no happy endings, though, and that made her curious.

* * *

><p>He shouldn't have come here.<p>

Rumplestiltskin had known that even when he'd gotten in his black Cadillac and driven down to the Storybrooke park, but he'd been unable to stop himself. He'd spent the last two days berating himself for hurting Lacey, thinking of the promises he had made Belle and knowing that he could not expect her to understand what he had done, even once the curse was broken. He wanted to keep her safe, would do _anything _to make certain of that, but keeping Cora from realizing what his family meant to him when he could do nothing to protect them was halfway to impossible. Trying to do so meant he'd acted in an unforgivable fashion…and would continue to do so.

He was such a coward. Always had been, and Rumplestiltskin would be one for the rest of his life. All he could do to quiet his conscience—what little of one he had—was to get out of the car, take the long walk across the park, and find a spot from which he could watch over them from a distance. Odds were that no one would notice him over by the baseball diamond; the park was fairly busy, anyway, with parents and kids all over the place. Still, he could see Lacey pushing Renee on the swings, could distantly hear as the three year old laughed with joy. She was wearing yellow again; it was Renee's favorite color and always made his heart clench, even when he hadn't known why. Her stuffed purple crocodile—oh, what an ironic toy to be her favorite—stuck out of Lacey's purse, and it wouldn't be too long before Renee needed a replacement because she took that toy _everywhere._

He missed them so much that it hurt, missed being clueless, oblivious Gold and not knowing he was supposed to stay away from them. Every day only got harder, not easier, but he could _not _slip up. Not now. He had less than a year to go.

"Higher, Mommy!" Renee demanded, and Lacey complied, pushing the giggling child harder as her little legs pumped for still more speed.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, watched them for a moment longer, and then forced himself to turn and limp away. He had work to do, a curse to break, and maybe, if he was very lucky, a son to find.

* * *

><p><span><em>6 Months Before the Curse<em>

"Papa!" The brown-haired blur launched herself into his arms almost as soon as he appeared. Somehow, she always knew when and where Rumplestiltskin was about to show up, and he caught her with a laugh, spinning her around as she giggled.

"Faster!"

So he did, tossing his two and a half year old up and catching her again as she squealed happily. He tossed her twice more, grateful for his curse-enhanced muscles and reflexes. They allowed Rumplestiltskin to do things with Gabrielle that he had never been able to do with Baelfire, just like the curse gave him the means to provide for this child like he had not done as the cowardly spinner. He loved this miracle child as much as he did the one he had lost, and Rumplestiltskin melted as he felt tiny arms wrap around his neck when he started walking deeper into the castle.

Belle met them in the great hall, smiling. "How _does _she always know?" his wife asked.

"Magic," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile, feeling his daughter perk up. She was just old enough to start being interested in magic, which always made her mother just a little bit nervous.

"Isn't she too young for that?"

He shrugged, bouncing Gabrielle. "She's a child of True Love, sweetheart, and that exponentially increased the odds that she would have magic of her own, even if she were not my child."

"I thought that you didn't have magic before the curse?" Belle asked. Trust her to dive right to the heart of the matter.

"I didn't—"

"Down, Papa!" their little princess commanded, and Rumplestiltskin obediently lowered her to the floor so that she could run off to play with the vast setup of dolls she had in the far corner of the hall. That corner was shielded so that only he, Belle, and Gabrielle could see it; visitors saw a bookshelf, not a dozen dolls and their various dresses. Her parents watched together as she toddled over and settled in happily, pulling out a doll whose yellow dress was a copy of the one Belle had worn that first day, so many years ago.

Belle slipped her hand into his and gave him a smile. "So…magic?"

"Right. Magic doesn't just pass through blood or curses," Rumplestiltskin explained. "Contiguity can also breed magic. Exposure, if you will. A lifetime spent around it, or even a handful of years if the power in question is strong enough, can awaken an innate magical talent in someone."

"So, you're saying that Gabrielle having magic is unavoidable."

"More or less, particularly since she's already demonstrating an affinity for it," he confirmed, squeezing Belle's hand. His voice dropped quietly. "She need not be like me. Magic is magic. It's _how _you choose to use it that will matter to her. Gabi isn't predestined to darkness."

"Rumple…" Belle trailed off guiltily.

"I worry about it, too," he admitted with a slight shake of his head. "I know what I am, and I wouldn't wish…_this _on our child."

"I love you the way you are," his wife replied, coming up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "We both do."

Rumplestiltskin just wrapped an arm around Belle and held on tight. He'd never deserve this amazing woman who had married him, and he lived every day with the fear that somehow he would manage to drive her away. Why she stayed—with his faults, his temper, his darkness, and his fears—he would never know, but Belle was slowly teaching him to fight for what he believed in. There wasn't much in this world that Rumplestiltskin really cared about, and before Belle and Gabi there hadn't been a damn thing he'd really believed in, but between the pair of them, they gave him something to live for. Something more than a curse and a vague promise from a seer that he would find Baelfire again.

It wasn't that finding his son was any less important to him; Rumplestiltskin still lived and breathed for the opportunity to apologize to his beloved son, to try to make up for his own cowardice and his mistakes. He had done unthinkable and abandoned his child, had done the one thing he had spent a lifetime promising himself he would never do. Gabrielle was a second chance of sorts—because he would _not _abandon her, not for anything—but that didn't make his having let go of Baelfire any better, and it certainly didn't lessen the urgency of his quest to find his son. Rumplestiltskin only hoped that Bae would accept the younger sister who was already so excited to meet him, that maybe he could draw his son into this new family he had somehow been fortunate enough to build.

_I'm coming, Bae, _he promised silently. _Six months to the curse and then twenty-eight years, but we're close, son. We're so close._

* * *

><p>True to his word, Graham forced Keith to take the night shift that evening, which freed up Emma's entire night. She'd planned on sleeping much of the day, catching up on some emails from the old job in Boston, and then grabbing dinner to go before heading on duty. Now, however, she found herself a bit at loose ends. Mary Margaret had plans of her own, a "date" with a stack of tests to grade that she had scheduled for tonight so that they could go out the following day, and Emma told her to stick with the original plan. They didn't have much food in the loft, so Emma headed out to Granny's on her own, figuring that she'd try the special Ruby had been complaining about that morning.<p>

Ruby, unfortunately, had been right. Granny's meatloaf and lasagna might have been great, but her chicken pot pie was watery, the crust was undercooked, and the entire thing was dry. It didn't _taste _too bad, but the overall presentation of the meal was rather so-so. That left Emma picking at the pot pie itself after she devoured her side of fries, wondering if she should order an ice cream sundae and just forget eating the rest of her actual meal. At least Henry wasn't there to see her eating like a teenager—Emma had learned the hard way that ten year olds really did watch what adults ate, and one little slip meant the kid in question thought that he could eat like crap, too.

"Eating alone?"

Emma's head snapped up, and she found herself looking at Graham's smiling face. "Uh, yeah. Mary Margaret had plans, Henry's at dinner at his grandmother's…you know. The life of a single gal."

"Well, then, can this single guy join you?" he asked lightly.

"Sure." Emma shrugged. "Why not?"

"Thanks. Eating alone gets old, and I stink at cooking."

"I know how you feel. I'm okay with a stove, but my repertoire is a little limited. Mary Margaret's better, but two single women living together aren't much healthier than guys when it comes to cooking."

That made Graham laugh, and Emma notice how handsome he was. Oh, he was the rugged good looks type, not conventionally attractive, and really not the 'wrong kind of guy' that Emma had formed a habit of getting involved with over the years. Contrary to the weird nature of this town that seemed to make everyone miserable, Graham was a genuinely good guy, and although he sometimes seemed very sad, he appeared to be less affected by the generalized melancholy than most people. He smiled easily, treated Emma like a human being and a valued employee, and she really did enjoy his company.

"So, I take it you're discovering that today's special isn't all that special?" Graham quipped as Ruby wandered towards them.

"It leaves a bit to be desired, yeah," she answered.

"Burger, beer, and fries, Graham?" Ruby asked, popping her gum noisily.

"Yep," he said with a grin. "Did you expect something else?"

"Nope," she smiled back. "Comin' right up."

Ruby sauntered off, and Emma peered at Graham. "You're that predictable, huh?"

"I always order that on Wednesdays," he replied with a shrug. "Been doing that for…oh, as long as I can remember. I've never liked the pot pie."

"How long is that?" Emma asked curiously. There was a little voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Henry, and it had told her to ask that question. After all, if Henry was right—and Regina, too, who either believed Henry or was humoring him—no one here really remembered how long they had lived in Storybrooke, did they?

"Hell if I know." Graham shrugged like that was unimportant, but Henry would have told her that was just the curse warping his mind. "Pretty much ever since I was a kid, I guess. At least ever since I started coming to Granny's."

"And since this is pretty much the only place to eat in town…you're always here."

"Well, that's not true. There's the Rabbit Hole—though anything other than peanuts sucks there—Storybrooke Coffee, Dave's Fish and Chips, and La Tandoor."

"So…a dive, a diner, a coffee shop, a cheap seafood place, and a fancy place. That's the sum of Storybrooke, huh?"

"Yup," Graham agreed as Ruby delivered his beer, burger, and fries. "That's pretty much it."

Laughing with Graham was so easy that Emma almost forgot that she was in the weirdest town on the planet, sitting with a guy who Henry claimed was the Huntsman out of _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves._ She hadn't felt this connected with a guy since she'd met the man she'd _thought _was the love of her life in a stolen car, but at least she could be pretty sure that Storybrooke's Sheriff wouldn't turn out to be a criminal who would ditch her with stolen goods and let her go to jail for him. Even if he _was _the Huntsman—which Emma didn't believe for a moment—at least then he was a good guy who'd gotten his heart stolen by an evil queen and couldn't be held accountable for his actions. _Better than a guy who couldn't resist stealing twenty k in watches. Neal did that to himself._

"So," she asked casually. "If you're here for dinner, why did you ask Keith to take your shift? I thought you had plans."

"Oh, I do," Graham replied around a mouth full of burger. "Jus' later tonight."

"Like a date?" Emma asked curiously.

"No! Definitely not like a date," he replied quickly, although Emma thought he went a little red. Or pale? It was hard to tell. Either way, he didn't look terribly excited for whatever he had planned for evening, and Emma found herself more than a little pleased to see that. She'd spent years not getting attached to anyone, telling herself that she had learned her lesson. Maybe it was just something about this place, something about Storybrooke, that made her tired of being alone. Living with Mary Margaret, getting to know her son—and even her son's adopted parents—made Emma feel like she was part of something for the first time in a very long time. And that was…nice.

So she smiled at Graham and banished her worries, telling herself that you only lived once, and she could do a lot worse than flirt with the cutest guy in this crazy small town.

* * *

><p>Two beers later, Emma and Graham split ways, and she headed back to the loft. By then, she figured that Mary Margaret would be done with the tests she needed to grade, and maybe they'd watch a movie or something. Storybrooke seemed to have a very limited number of movies—most of which seemed to have been new in the nineties—so Emma's DVD collection was definitely something Mary Margaret had been excited to see. The next movie on their list was <em>Iron Man 2<em>, which Mary Margaret had never seen but was excited for. _Robert Downey Junior really _is _good motivation to go home, _Emma thought, grinning to herself as she came up the stairs.

Only to have her grin vanish as she came around the corner to find that the loft's front door was already open, and Mary Margaret was facing down with a handsome, dark haired man who was several inches taller than she was. He was leaning on the doorframe casually, but something in his body language screamed _predator_ to Emma, despite the designer clothes he wore. Mary Margaret was facing him shakily, tense and unhappy, and her eyes immediately fell on her roommate.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret called with relief. "You're home!"

"Yup," she replied, walking up and waiting for the guy to move. He didn't. "Hey, uh, in case you didn't notice, I live here, and you're standing in my way."

"Right. Of course." He turned a charming smile on Emma and stuck out a hand. "I'm Jefferson."

Emma took his hand automatically, but not without asking: "Like Jefferson the stalker? The guy who won't take no for an answer?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he replied, turning an admittedly pretty frown on her. "I'm just persistent, particularly when it's someone worth fighting for."

He tried the charming smile on Mary Margaret, but Emma's roommate flinched. The motion was almost imperceptible, but Emma had always been good at noticing things about people. _Yeah, what Mary Margaret told me before was just the tip of the iceberg. She's scared of this guy._ Squaring her shoulders, Emma shoved past Jefferson and into the flat, moving to stand next to Mary Margaret. The other woman seemed to take comfort from her presence, and Emma shot her a grin.

"You want this guy fighting for you?" she asked bluntly.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I'd rather…not. Definitely not."

Her voice grew stronger with every word, and Emma was damned proud of her. Mary Margaret didn't lack courage; she just seemed unable to call upon it sometimes. Emma had yet to figure out _why _an otherwise strong woman sometimes turned into an absolute mouse, but she wasn't going to let anything happen to her while she was around. So, she grinned nastily at Jefferson, crossing her arms and putting on her best 'I'm a Sheriff's Deputy' face and said:

"Looks like you'd better get lost, then. And don't come back unless you want me to arrest you."

"Arrest me?" Jefferson scoffed. "You can't do that."

"Of course I can. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a cop. And stalking's against the law, even here in Storybrooke."

"That's really cute," he replied, and his arrogance was enough to make Emma roll her eyes. "But you can't do that. I know every lawyer in this town. Charges would never stick."

Emma snorted, shifting to place her right hand on her gun. Having one was still new to her, but she wasn't exactly a stranger to how even _touching _a weapon could intimidate even the biggest asshole. It worked here, too; Jefferson flinched ever so slightly and Emma smirked. "You want to see how cute I can be? Keep pressing and I'll arrest you now."

Angry eyes met hers; Emma just waited.

"I was just…leaving," the arrogant jerk said. "See you later, Mary Margaret."

"No you won't," Emma's roommate said, and Emma could have hugged her. In fact, she did once Jefferson was gone, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and grinning.

"See, _that's _how you get rid of creeps. Next we'll buy you a gun and you can just shoot the bastard if he comes back."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!"

Emma laughed. "I bet you're a great shot."

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Well done, Hatter," Cora purred, watching the portal jumper and her stepdaughter emerge from the hat in an empty field a few miles away from the capital city. She greeted both with a smile, noting the angry expression Snow's face and enjoying every moment of the girl's agony.

Eva's daughter was miserable, and Cora knew why. After all, she had Snow's heart in her keeping, which was how she had forced her _dear _stepdaughter to go on this mission to Oz. Cora didn't need to physically _hold _a heart to command the person from whence it came; no, she only needed to do that if she wanted to force the person to say or do specific things. In Snow's case, threatening her father had been motivation enough to keep Snow from saying anything regrettable; not that the Hatter would have cared much. He cared for the gold Cora would give him and the guarantees she could provide of a good life for his daughter.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Hatter replied with a bow.

"Here is your payment," she said, holding out a bag of gold, which the Hatter promptly took, pressing a few folded sheets of paper into her hands in exchange. He bowed again, and then retreated as Cora teleported herself and Snow away in a swirl of purple smoke. They landed in Cora's private boudoir, and Snow wheeled on Cora, her eyes wide and betrayed.

"Are you happy now?" the twenty year old princess demanded. "I fetched your poppies for you, and the Hatter got you that information on that Wicked Witch that you wanted. _Now _what?"

"Now I keep your heart," Cora purred, and watched all the color leave Eva's daughter's face. She laughed softly. "Did you think I would give it back?"

"You promised!"

"Oh, I will keep my promise. Provided you behave yourself," she smiled.

"And my father?" Snow demanded, her eyes wide and frightened. Her fear was delicious, absolutely intoxicating. Cora had played the loving stepmother for too long, had swallowed her fury while she watched Eva's 'pure' daughter prance about as Leopold's heir apparent. She had gritted her teeth and pretended to be pleased as Snow was honored, slowly encouraging Leopold to elevate Regina into Snow's equal. The spells on him helped, of course, but Leopold loved his daughter, and that kind of love was some of the hardest to break. She'd countered that with a sickness which had made the king into an invalid for the past year—and Cora his regent—but even that was less useful.

"Perfectly safe, of course," Cora lied. She knew the spells were weakening. She even knew that Regina was playing a major part in that, because her daughter was far too attached to her younger stepsister. Regina's foolishness would have to be overcome; one of these days, Cora would probably have to remove her own daughter's heart to teach Regina how to be properly dispassionate. But there was time yet. The spells were still plenty strong, and Cora's power in the kingdom was absolute.

"He doesn't love you," the foolish girl spat, and Cora laughed. "Your magic can't hold him forever!"

"You foolish little princess." Cora almost felt sorry for her. _Almost._ But never for Eva's daughter. She remembered her promise to the dead queen. She would turn Snow's heart as black as coal, turn her into everything her mother would have hated. _Then _Cora would have revenge for the way Eva had taken the crown that should have been hers from the beginning. "Love doesn't matter. Only power matters."

"Love will always matter," the idealist declared, and Cora laughed.

"Go back to your rooms, Snow. And tell no one I have your heart—including your _dear _stepsister—if you want to live."

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! What do you think is going to happen to poor Snow now that Cora has her heart in the past?_

_Next up: Chapter Twelve: "Meant to Be", in which Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan start talking, Emma drops by to have a chat with Lacey, and Emma confronts Graham over something suspicious. Back in the past, Rumplestiltskin and Belle are still in Amorveria and getting used to being married. _


	12. Chapter 12: Meant to Be

_**Questions to Answer: **_

_Does Cora know who the Wicked Witch is? She certainly does, but how she knows will come into play later._

_Will Snow get her heart back? Definitely. Regina's not the kind of sister who will leave her little sister without a heart any longer than she has to, and Cora doesn't want it forever, anyway. Cora just has something specific she wants to do with it before she gives it back._

* * *

><p>Warning: Strong references to rapenon-con in this chapter. Not graphic.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Twelve—"Meant to Be"<strong>_

* * *

><p>Emma and Henry had been upstairs playing video games and had somehow lost track of time. Henry, of course, had wanted to talk about Operation Cobra (when didn't he?), but Emma had done a little pre-planning of her own. Before Regina dropped Henry off that Saturday morning, Emma had talked Mary Margaret into telling Henry that she wanted to read the Book, which gave Emma a little time with her kid without a giant evil curse getting between them. They'd had a fun afternoon and had gotten engrossed in King's Quest VII: The Princeless Bride, which meant that when Emma looked at the clock, it was already after five PM. She frowned.<p>

"Your mom should have been here an hour ago," she told Henry. "Grab your bag and we'll go see what's up."

"Sure," Henry replied, hopping up. Emma had wisely caught him between chapters, so it wasn't like she was interrupting, which never worked well with a ten year old. Henry, however, looked thoughtful. "I wonder what's going on. Mom's _never _late. Grandma hates that."

The mention of Cora Mills made Emma grimace as they headed down the stairs. Storybrooke's mayor really was a piece of work. Regina and David were great parents, even if David was a little spacey sometimes. Emma would never have worried for Henry at all if not for the toxic presence of his adopted grandmother in his life. There were also moments—although never around Henry—when Emma could see the shadow of Cora in Regina, in the temper that sometimes crept out or the sharp edges that the mayor's daughter carefully hid. Without Cora, Emma had a feeling that Regina would have always been a much nicer person.

Laughter drifted up the stairs to them, and Emma almost ran into Henry when he stopped cold at the bottom. But she didn't have to ask Henry why he was so shocked—there Mary Margaret and David stood, leaning over the kitchen island together and reading the Book.

"I could never do that!" Mary Margaret was saying with a shy smile.

"I bet you could," David grinned back, and Emma watched in surprise as their eyes met. The chemistry between the pair was unmistakable; it was almost like sparks were flying in the air around them.

"I would _not _bash someone in the head with a rock," Mary Margaret objected.

David shrugged. "Sometimes it's necessary. Someone did it to me once, and I bet it was because I deserved it. Though I don't really remember."

"No!"

"See? Look, check out the scar."

He pointed, and Mary Margaret gaped. "That's so weird. It looks just like the one in the Book…"

Staring, Emma had to swallow hard before she could look at Henry. She knew that the kid thought David and Mary Margaret were her parents, but this was beyond odd. Sure, whoever had actually written the book could have been smart enough to incorporate David Nolan's real scar, but… _Being a skeptic is getting harder by the day, _she thought without meaning to_._ This was all so weird, but it _wasn't _possible, was it? Henry, of course, bounced into the conversation, looking both excited and vindicated.

"Hi, Dad!"

"Hey, you." David seemed to have a hard time looking away from Mary Margaret, but they both managed, and Mary Margaret smiled as David ruffled Henry's hair.

"Your book is amazing, Henry," she said.

"Are you remembering, yet? You two are True Love and—"

"Kid, don't you think that's a bit much?" Emma cut him off, and watched Henry sigh.

"No," he grumbled. "They deserve to know the truth. It's not like Mom wants to be married to her brother-in-law, anyway."

"Henry!" Emma and Mary Margaret gasped together, but David looked almost…thoughtful. Emma just suppressed a groan.

"It's time to go home, right, Dad?" the indefatigable ten year old said to avoid the rebuke.

"Yeah, it's my turn to cook dinner, so we'd better get moving," David replied reluctantly. "Where _did_ the time go?"

"Have you two been talking for an hour?" Emma had to ask.

Mary Margaret blushed. "Longer, I think. David showed up early, and we didn't want to disturb you two."

Henry was never going to shut up about this. Sure enough, the kid was glowing as he shoved the damn fairy tale book in his bag and turned to David.

"Let's go," he said to his adopted father. "We can talk on the way!"

Emma tried to throw a commiserating look Mary Margaret's way, but her roommate's shining eyes were still fastened on David. She looked absolutely smitten, almost like the pictures of Snow White when she looked at Prince Charming in the Book. _You're crazy if you believe that_, Emma thought, but she couldn't quite convince herself all the way. Looking at the two of them together made thinking that they belonged together way too easy…but even if Henry's curse was real, they were all in for trouble.

* * *

><p>Gold had always hated weekends, and Rumplestiltskin quite agreed. He generally did not open the shop on Sundays, which meant many of his Saturday nights were spent in a bed not his own, one he didn't at all care to be in. This, of course, was one of those nights. As he stared up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the breathing of the woman next to him, Rumplestiltskin supposed that he should be grateful that Cora hadn't left him somewhere less comfortable than in her bed, but the idea of feeling any gratitude towards the woman who so frequently raped and hurt him only whipped his curse into a fury.<p>

Land Without Magic or not, he could still hear the whispers. _Kill her!_ it demanded.

_I will_, he promised firmly. There was no doubt about that in his mind, none whatsoever. Cora could live until the curse was broken—providing the Savior with an enemy to oppose and then the mob with a villain to chase down—but then she was done for.

Slowly, he shifted out from under Cora's arm and pulled away from her sleeping grip. She made a soft noise of annoyance, but did not wake, and he was pathetically glad to see that. Hesitantly, Rumplestiltskin moved shaking fingers to touch the raised welts on his stomach, hissing in pain as he did. Cora had ended the evening playful but had started angry, which never turned out well. Although her frustration had not been with him, Cora was far too accustomed to taking her fury out on Gold. Twenty-eight years of having a convenient punching bag was a hard habit to break, particularly when she had no reason to do so. And particularly when she could so easily stop him from fighting back.

Those welts were going to hurt for weeks if his experience was anything to go by, and Gold's memories indicated that Rumplestiltskin's instincts were right. Shaking, Rumplestiltskin dropped his hand back to the mattress and refocused his gaze on the ceiling. He didn't want to look at the rest of the damage. Playing along with this travesty was getting old, but he would do so as long as Cora didn't suspect what he was doing. Everything would be worth it in the end. It would have to be.

"Wishing you were someplace else?" Cora purred sleepily. Even half-awake, she reveled in her power, turning on her side so that she could gaze at him complacently.

"It's hard not to," he growled.

Cora laughed softly, reaching her left hand to his stomach and making Rumplestiltskin yelp in pain as she pressed down. Instinctively, his hands came up to shove hers away, until she said: "Hands down. Now."

The curse pushed them back to the mattress, and magic held them there. Rumplestiltskin hated his own clever ideas more than ever, and didn't try to keep the snarl back as her fingers played over the welts and then drifted downwards. He turned his head away.

"Don't make me tie you back down," she murmured.

"Cora…"

A finger landed on his lips. "Shh."

It wasn't yet dawn, and it was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, and if Rumplestiltskin listened carefully, he could hear waves hitting the beach. The cottage he had rented in Amorveria was right on the water—he expected that Belle would later want to walk on the beach that was right outside the front door—but for now, he found that just listening to the soft sound of water lapping against the sand was rather peaceful. Rumplestiltskin couldn't remember a time when he had just laid in bed and drowsed. Inactivity did not sit well with his curse; it was almost as driven has he was, though the curse was driven to darkness and great deeds while Rumplestiltskin was driven only to find his son. Yet here the curse was quieter, only a bare whisper, and even Rumplestiltskin's own quest was able to wait a little while. Here…he was at peace.

That was a strange feeling, but not stranger than the feeling of having a warm body pressed up against his own, of breathing in the sweet smell of a woman's hair. Belle's head was nestled on his chest, and she was snoring softly, her blue eyes closed and the very image of contentment. Gently, he kissed the top of her head, part of him still utterly amazed that this beautiful, perfect woman could possibly want _him_. Yet she had married him the afternoon before, had sworn to love him for eternity whilst Rumplestiltskin did the same. Belle had been uncertain in his arms, but in no way unwilling, and they had demonstrated the depth of their love together the night before. Rumplestiltskin might have thought it was a dream if not for the fact that Belle still lay beside him, beautiful and real and _his._

He had no idea how long he lay there just listening to her breathe, just marveling in her presence. Finally, however, Belle stirred, blinking sleepily and turning her head to look up at him. A small, secretive smile crossed her face.

"Hello," Belle said hesitantly.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Good morning."

"Morning." Belle snuggled into him sleepily as Rumplestiltskin glanced out the open doors.

"Or afternoon, rather," he said lightly. "For I do believe it is past noon."

"Is it?" Coming up on one elbow, Belle peered out the doors, seeing the sun indeed high in the sky. Seeing that made her blush. Or perhaps the sudden flush on her face came from the frankly appreciative glance Rumplestiltskin stole at her now-uncovered breasts.

"I don't think I have slept so late since I was a girl, and then my governess thrashed me soundly," she admitted, sneaking back under the covers.

"Did she? Then tell me her name and I shall curse her just as soundly."

"Rumple!"

"A quip, sweetheart, nothing more," he laughed, bending his head to kiss her forehead, only for Belle to twist and find his lips with her own. Being able to kiss was still so wonderful, so new, and although they had thoroughly acquainted themselves with the practice last night, Rumplestiltskin thought he would never tire of being able to kiss the woman he loved. Every time he did, he could feel the echo of power surging through his veins, could feel the purest and oldest magic filling him. His sense of magic was dulled here, quieted like his curse was, but Rumplestiltskin could still feel True Love running through his soul.

"Good," Belle smiled, placing a quick kiss on his nose before snuggling back into his chest. "I don't care what time it is. I want to stay here with you."

"That's why they call it a honeymoon. We can do whatever we like."

Not that he'd ever known such freedom before, not even before he'd become the town coward and been hated by his own wife. Now, however, Rumplestiltskin truly was free to lie idly, free to luxuriate in the newness of his bride's embrace. The people of Amorveria did not know who he was; they thought he was some visiting lord who simply looked odd (which he supposed technically he was, given that the Dark Castle commanded the loyalty of many miles of lands and the town at the bottom of the mountain) and cared only for the money he brought to the town. They did not think of him as some dark creature, just a man who had come to wed his True Love in the town where True Love itself was the highest law.

"I never dreamed it could be like this." Belle's fingers started tracing patterns on his chest, and Rumplestiltskin shivered delightfully. "I always thought I would have to marry a brute like Gaston, never that I would find someone like you."

"Never imagined that you would get the Dark One, did you?" he tried to ask the question lightly, but even Rumplestiltskin heard the catch in his voice.

Belle did, too, and immediately turned over, her chest against his and her face mere inches from his own. Suddenly serious, her blue eyes met his, and Belle kissed him hard. "I love you, Rumplestiltskin," she said fiercely. "I love all of you, even the darkest parts, and I would not trade you for _anyone._ Do you understand that?"

"No," he whispered honestly. "I will never understand what you see in me."

"Love," Belle whispered. "True Love."

He could deny her nothing, could not even find a way to tell her that she had married a monster and that he was so unworthy of her. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin was too much of a coward to say the words, too much of a coward to drive her away. He loved her too much, wanted to keep her so badly, even if Rumplestiltskin knew that someday, somehow, he would do something wrong and she would leave him because he deserved to be left. He would not say it, would not ruin this honeymoon for her, but his fears must have shone on his face, because Belle touched his cheek gently.

"Do you love me, Rumple?" she whispered.

"Of course I do." If he was sure of nothing else, he was certain of that.

"Then believe in our love as I do," she begged him, and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart break a little.

"I do," he promised. "I only—I only think I am unworthy of you."

"You silly man—"

"I'm not a man."

"You are right now," Belle countered, looking at him pointedly.

"I…"

Belle cut him off with a kiss, and Rumplestiltskin could not help wrapping his arms around her as she moved against him. How was it that she could restore his self-worth with a smile? Milah had made him feel lower than dirt, Cora had made the darkness inside him rage, but _Belle _gave him peace. She made him feel like he truly was a man again, like he was not a monster who did not deserve to find his lost child. "You make me stronger," he whispered without meaning to say the words aloud. "You make me want to be better than I am."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," his wife—his _wife!_—told him gently, her hands cupping his face.

"I don't know how to be what you need me to be, Belle," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "There is too much darkness in me."

"Then let me be your light," she replied, kissing him again, and Rumplestiltskin lost himself in her embrace.

* * *

><p><span><em>November 14, 2011<em>

Monday morning's first visitor to the library was a deputy sheriff, but not the one that Lacey hated to see. She'd spent another weekend at home alone with Renee, avoiding calls from Tony and refusing to try to call Gold again. It was one thing for him to try to avoid her to keep her safe; she might not agree with his assessment of the situation, but at least that showed he cared. Treating her like unwanted trash in public was another matter entirely. If he missed her that much, _he _could call _her._ Lacey had enough pride to ignore him until he did, no matter how much she missed him.

That meant Emma Swan's presence was a very welcome distraction, and Lacey smiled in greeting as she rose from behind the circulation desk. "Deputy Swan. Welcome to the Storybrooke Library."

"Thanks. But call me, Emma, please. Titles are…weird."

"Lacey." Emma seemed like a breath of fresh air in Storybrooke, and reminded Lacey of something she couldn't quite remember. "Is there something I can help you with? Are you looking for a book?"

"Information on one, actually," the blonde woman replied, looking a little uneasy.

"Well, you've come to the right place."

"Yeah, I figured." Emma smiled slightly, glancing around as if to make sure the library was still empty. "I wanted to know where you got the fairy tale book you, uh, _didn't _give back to Henry."

Lacey had to take a deep breath to steady herself. Exactly one week later, she still remembered the mayor's threats, and although she hadn't stopped Henry from taking the book out again, Lacey really hoped that the boy was as good at keeping it from his grandmother as he seemed to think he'd be. Still, Emma had already faced down the mayor once, and Lacey knew she wouldn't go running to Cora about it. So she answered honestly:

"I don't know exactly. It just kind of showed up one day, so I read it. Henry had been here a lot, looking for answers on why Storybrooke is so different, and he's always been such a lonely boy. I thought he could use something a little, well, _magical_, so I gave it to him."

In hindsight, Lacey wasn't sure why giving the book to Henry had felt so right, but it had, and she'd not regretted it.

"What do you mean 'showed up'? Didn't you order it?"

"Oh, no. I would have remembered that," she answered. "That book isn't in any publisher's catalogue. Trust me, I've tried to find another copy."

"Huh," Emma replied. "Isn't that weird?"

"Very," Lacey assured her, and watched a peculiar look cross Emma Swan's face.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Can I ask you something, Rumple?" Belle asked as they continued to lie in bed together. A servant from the rented cottage had brought them food while they continued shamelessly abed. Her new husband was passionate and uncertain in turns, seemingly unable to accept that she could possibly love him the way he loved her. Belle did her best to reassure him, and thought she had for now, but she knew that Rumplestiltskin's past—what little of it he had shared with her—would always haunt him. So Belle would do her best to distract him.

"Of course, sweetheart."

Every time he called her that, an excited chill ran down Belle's spine. The love in his voice was unmistakable, and she knew in her soul that Rumplestiltskin had never looked at another woman with such love in his eyes. When she had returned to the Dark Castle three months earlier, Belle had no idea what was going to happen. She had known she loved him then, but had not been certain Rumplestiltskin could love. But in those months, Rumplestiltskin had so utterly proved her wrong. He was shy, hesitant, and often difficult, but Belle knew that he loved her from the very bottom of his heart. And he was worth fighting for.

"When we return home, will we be able to…" Her courage failing her, Belle sucked in a deep breath, trying to find words to ask her question and going bright red instead.

"Make love?" Rumplestiltskin asked, and although Belle could hear the amusement in his voice, she was so glad that he did not laugh at her.

"Yes," she admitted. "Will we? I mean, with your curse…?"

"Of course we will," her husband replied. "It's True Love's kiss, my dear, not anything else. So long as we do not kiss, we will be fine."

"Good." The next words came in a rush; Belle felt herself blushing madly. "I always wanted to know if you had those scales all over."

Now he did laugh, but it was a joyous sound, full of love and enough to make Belle's stomach flutter. So she kissed him again, promising herself she would get her fill of doing so now. Her relationship with Rumplestiltskin might be unorthodox once they left Amorveria, but Belle loved him no less for that, and she would make their marriage work in whatever form it took.

* * *

><p>"Why did I see you leaving the mayor's house late last night?" Emma asked him, and although her tone was obviously meant to be casual, Graham heard the edge in it.<p>

It was not the question he had expected upon walking into work that morning, though, so he missed a step and asked: "What?"

"Last night. I was driving by and saw you leaving the mayor's house at…eight-ish? Something like that, anyway. Why were you there so late? You two playing late-night chess or something?"

"No, um, I…" He wanted to tell her, he really did. But the words would not come. Graham had no idea _why _he continued to do Cora's bidding the way he did, or what it was that made him keep going to her when she called. Something inside Graham always made him do as he was told, made him obey Cora even when he knew that to do so was wrong.

"Tell me you aren't sleeping with her," Emma said next, and Graham wheeled around to face her, horrified.

"No! Definitely not," he snapped.

Or at least he hadn't the night before. Graham _had _slept with the mayor a few times—again, not for reasons he could understand—but it hadn't happened lately, and he had promised himself that he would never do it again. He wasn't entirely sure what it was he felt for Emma, but Graham knew that he liked her a hell of a lot more than he liked Cora. Emma was bold, brave, and engaging; she said what she thought and wasn't afraid to face the consequences. She was turning out to be a good cop, too, not corruptible or lazy like Keith. He liked spending time with her, too, and wanted to keep doing that, which meant it was really important to him that she didn't think there was anything going on between him and Cora.

"Well, that's good to know, at least," she said dryly. "What is she, like twice your age?"

"I've never asked," Graham retorted, which at least earned him a lopsided smile from Emma. Then he couldn't resist getting a dig in. "What, are you jealous?"

Asking a question like that served as a good distraction and would keep Emma from hounding him about what Cora actually _did _have him doing. Besides, Graham wanted to know.

"You wish," Emma shot back, but he thought he saw something in her eyes that indicated otherwise.

"What are you, twelve?" he teased her, and earned himself a smack on the shoulder as he laughed.

"I'm not sure you deserve a more mature answer."

"Oooh. _That's _definitely a response that befits a Sheriff's Deputy."

"You're one to talk!"

Graham dodged the next playful swing she took at him, and shot her a pleading look. "Does that mean I can't buy you dinner tonight?"

"Not if it's at Granny's, no," Emma retorted. "I'm so sick of her lasagna that I could scream, and that's tonight's special."

"You know you're starting to fit in here in town when you can recite the nightly specials," Graham agreed, and then took the plunge. "Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go to La Tandoor."

"You mean the nice place? Like actually going to dinner, like a date kind of dinner?" Emma asked after a moment of staring at him.

Graham shrugged awkwardly. "It could be a dinner between coworkers if you like."

Emma looked a little uncomfortable, which was actually kind of nice, given that he felt the same. She returned the shrug, though, and gave him a little smile. "Or…it could be something else. Maybe sort of like a date."

"Sort of?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Shut up."

He cocked his head at her. Reading Emma Swan was more complicated than any book he'd ever encountered. "Is that a yes?"

"Probably. Show up around seven and find out," she dared him.

"Oh, you're on."

Graham had never been able to resist a challenge, and if Emma wasn't one, well, he didn't know who in the town was.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN: **__Next up, Chapter Thirteen: "Good vs. Evil", where Graham starts to remember, Emma meets Hook, and Cora lashes out. In the past, Regina and Snow try to save King Leopold from Cora's spells._

_While you're waiting, please do let me know what you think of the story now that the pieces are moving into place!_


	13. Chapter 13: Good vs Evil

_**Chapter Thirteen—"Good vs. Evil"**_

* * *

><p>"I think I screwed up," Emma told Regina the next afternoon. Henry was supposedly upstairs doing his homework, and Emma had accepted Regina's invitation to come in instead of leaving after walking him home from the bus like she usually did.<p>

"How so?" Regina asked, bracing herself for bad news. Immediately, all the things that the Savior could have messed up started rolling through her mind, from somehow strengthening the curse to telling Cora who she was. Emma was brash, and there was no telling what she'd done if _she _felt that she'd managed to screw something up. The world might be about to end for all Regina knew, and judging from the look on Emma's face, Regina wouldn't put that past her.

"Graham," the Savior replied, and Regina blinked.

"What about him?"

"He, uh…he and I went on a date last night, and we, uh, kissed. And then he started acting kind of strange."

"What do you mean 'strange'?" she asked warily.

"He's been going on about not feeling anything, about not having his _heart_? It's insane, Regina. No one can live without a heart, but Graham's convinced that his is missing. He keeps saying he's got to find it, that someone's got it—"

"My mother does," Regina cut her off, figuring that she'd just drop the bomb now.

"_What?_" her niece gaped. "That's not possible. You're joking. You've _got _to be joking."

"It isn't impossible in our world. Using magic—dark magic—you can rip someone's heart out without killing them. The heart then becomes enchanted, allowing you to control the person whose heart it is." Emma, of course, was looking like she'd just been hit in the face with a two-by-four, with that look of utter disbelief and skepticism that Regina had grown far too used to seeing. That look made her want to smack Emma upside the head or outright shake some sense into her, but Regina managed to strangle back the urge and speak levelly: "My mother ripped Graham's heart out because she wanted an incorruptible captain for her own private guard, one that wouldn't answer to the King, only to her. In doing so, she made him her slave, and he was _never _free of her."

"Look, Regina, I know that Henry believes this stuff, but you're an adult. There's no way that this is real. It _can't _be," Emma replied. "A human being can't live without his heart!"

"Yes, you're right," Regina snapped, finally pushed beyond playing 'nicely'. "I am an adult. And do you know what else I am? I'm a _sorceress_. Magic is what I know. And believe me, I'm not making this up. Neither Henry nor I are making this up. Face it. _You _are not a normal person. You're the Savior, so you'd better get with the damn program!"

Emma's eyes went wide, and she leaned forward to look Regina in the face. "I didn't ask to be any Savior!" she replied hotly. "I didn't even ask to come to this crazy place until _your _kid dragged me here!"

"He's your kid, too! You don't get a pass on this one, unless you're just going to march your way right out of Henry's life."

"I didn't ask to be brought here!"

"Well, that's too damn bad. Now, are you going to run away like you've been doing for most of your life, or are you going to stick around and do something that matters?" Regina challenged her. "Do you like Graham?"

"Of course I do. That's not the point."

"Yes it is. Now, do you want to help him or not?" she demanded.

"Yes, but—"

"No buts. Either you think he's crazy, or you believe him. Are you going to take a chance, or are you going to do the safe thing and run away?"

Emma never got the chance to answer; her cell phone rang instead.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

Regina had never expected the Huntsman to be willing help them. He had been the captain of the Queen's Guard for over a year now, although no one called him anything but the Huntsman, and few knew that the former man of nature had been roped into the job when Queen Cora took his heart. Most assumed that the quiet captain had come to serve a queen he adored, and Cora allowed the rumor to spread that the Huntsman had once been in the employ of her late husband, Prince Henry. Regina, however, knew that had not been the case. She knew that her mother had sought out the man whom a Seer had once foretold would embrace her undoing, taking his heart to prevent the Huntsman from ever being a threat. Being Cora, she did not kill him; no she turned the poor man into her slave, instead.

But the Huntsman still had his moments of rebellion, and this seemed to be one of them. He'd taken a liking to Snow, had always been extremely kind to her, and so when Regina had asked him to relieve the guards on Leopold's chambers, he had agreed. Leopold had been ill for almost a year now, growing increasingly reclusive and seeing no one without Cora present. Even Snow had to go through her stepmother to see her father, and Regina knew that was because Snow's love for Leopold had almost broken him free of the magic holding him to Cora. She'd researched quite a lot of spells since that had almost happened by accident, and Regina was certain that she knew how to break her stepfather free.

"Are you sure this can work?" Snow asked quietly as the Huntsman opened the door for them.

The sisters stepped into the outer chamber together, with Regina gathering magic to herself as she went. She would only have one chance to break Leopold free, but if she succeeded, they could get the entire kingdom out from under Cora's toxic control. Regina didn't know what it would do for her own status if Leopold annulled his marriage to Cora—or worse—but she no longer cared. She trusted Snow to look out for her if worst came to worst, and Snow deserved to have her father back.

_They've been married for ten years, _Regina thought with a mental sigh. _Snow deserves to have her father again. There's nothing in the world that can bring _my _daddy back, but if I can give hers back, that has got to count for something._

"It'll work," she reassured her little sister, wrapping an arm around Snow's shoulders as they walked. "I promise."

Rumplestiltskin had told her that it was impossible to free her stepfather without accepting that the permanent damage had already been done, but Regina was prepared for that. Even if she couldn't _fix _him, she could at least free Leopold, and if he was too far gone to rule competently, then _Snow _could act as his regent, as she should have been doing already. Snow was nearly twenty, was more than old enough to rule on her own if it came to that. She wasn't married—uncommon in a princess of her age, particularly one that stood to inherit such a powerful kingdom—but that was only because Cora had sabotaged every marriage offer that came Snow's way, outright refusing most of them. All in Leopold's name, of course.

The last one had been King George's son, Prince James—again—and he and Snow had hit it right off this time around. It would have been a grand marriage, too, one that would unite both kingdoms and which George was very keen on, but Cora was determined that _Regina _marry James instead. Regina had liked him well enough, but Snow had liked him more, and when Regina refused to take that away from her sister. Snow had lost enough, and Regina knew what it was like to fall in love. She _still _loved Daniel, even though her mother had not let her see him in over a year. _Maybe if we free Leopold, it isn't too late for Snow and her 'Charming'. _Regina smiled reassuringly at her younger sister, and then let Snow go.

"Now let me get to work," she said softly.

Snow nodded and stepped forward, kneeling to take her father's hand. Leopold sat in a high backed chair, staring blankly at the pair of young women, as he had ever since the pair had walked in. He hadn't even greeted them; these days, Cora had to prompt Leopold to talk to anyone. Regina wasn't sure how much of that was her mother using magic to prompt the king into coherency, or if the spells only allowed him to respond to Cora, but the result was the same.

"Father?" Snow asked quietly, and Leopold barely even blinked. "Papa?"

"Give it a moment," Regina advised her, letting out a careful breath. Her hands came up, slowly but surely, and Regina forced herself to visualize the threads of magic surrounding her stepfather.

Rumplestiltskin was always after her to learn to unravel spells, to learn finesse instead of the brute power approach that Regina favored. Her mother walked a fine line between the two, and Regina had forced herself to learn to do the same. She would never make a master manipulator of the sort her mentor was, but she'd been paying special attention to how to do this for some time. Regina had even been practicing, and _this _was the moment she had learned magic for. She had learned magic to protect those she loved, and she'd damn well do it today.

Carefully, she grasped the last of the threads wrapped around Leopold. _It's now or never!_ Regina thought, and pulled the threads apart. Light flared brilliantly and briefly, bathing the entire room in a soft purple glow for several seconds. Distantly, Regina heard someone gasp—she wasn't sure if it was Leopold or Snow—but as the purple light faded, she saw Leopold blink.

"Snow?" the king asked raggedly, and Regina almost cheered.

"Father!" Snow threw her arms around her father, and Leopold hugged her back. His movements were slow and jerky, as if he wasn't quite used to having his limbs always obey his commands, but his eyes were much clearer than Regina ever remembered them being. "Can you understand me?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I can," Leopold replied groggily, looking like someone who had just wakened from a long slumber. "What…where is Cora?"

"Not here," Regina replied, her voice hard. "And her magic can no longer hold you."

"Good," her stepfather replied with undisguised relief, and Regina let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She had been certain that she'd gotten Cora's magic off of him, but there had been no way to know for sure until he agreed that Cora's absence was a good thing. "I am…I have not been myself, have I?"

"Not for a long time," Snow replied, and the pain in her voice broke Regina's heart.

"She had spells on you," Regina explained. "Dozens of them. Love spells, enthrallment enchantments, and several binding spells to make you loyal to her. They're gone now."

Leopold looked around, clearly expecting to see someone else. "Who broke the spells?"

"Regina did," Snow replied with a huge smile, and Leopold turned to look at his stepdaughter in surprise.

"You?"

"Yes," Regina admitted, shrugging a little self-consciously. How _did _Leopold feel about magic? She had no way to know; what if he hated magic after what Cora had done to him? Would he throw her out of the only home she had once he was done punishing Cora for her crimes.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, and Regina felt herself go a little bit red.

"I just wanted to help," she said softly, and Snow shot her a grin.

"Regina unraveled the spells on you, Father," the princess added. "You're free now, thanks to her."

"And I will be forever grateful," Leopold replied, struggling to his feet. Snow reached up to help him as he stumbled, supporting her father while he swayed tiredly. How long had it been since he'd stood up without magic to direct his actions? Moving quickly to his other side, Regina reached out hands to steady him. After a moment, the king was able to stand on his own, but he was already breathing hard.

"Now what?" Regina asked.

"Now we take back the kingdom," Snow said immediately, looking up at her father adoringly. "Right, Father?"

Leopold smiled back at her. "Definitely. In fact—"

"Oh, what a touching family reunion," a new voice interrupted, making Regina, Snow, and Leopold twist to face a suddenly smiling Cora. She cocked her head, smiling victoriously. "Of course, it won't do any good."

"Cora, this has gone far enough," Leopold said strongly, and Regina watched him square his shoulders painfully. "I understand your grievances against me, but—"

A wave of Cora's hand silenced the king; his mouth was suddenly glued shut, and he struggled to speak, but to no avail. "That's quite enough out of you."

"Mother!" Regina objected, only to have her mother turn a glare on her.

"This is not your concern, darling," she said coldly. "Stay out of it."

"What do you want, Cora?" Snow demanded, stepping between her father and her stepmother.

"I want you to kill your father."

"_What?_" Snow and Regina gasped together, but it was Snow who froze when Cora's left hand slipped into her cloak and emerged with a glowing heart held tightly.

"Give him the poison," Cora clarified, swirling the fingers of her free hand. Immediately, a goblet appeared on the table to Snow's right. Regina didn't need magic to know that the wine in the goblet was poisoned. Cora would not lie about such a thing and she would not make a mistake.

"No!" Snow cried, but her hand was already moving for the goblet.

Cora ignored her protests, instead turning to Leopold. A gesture from her freed his jaw, but nothing could erase the horror on his face.

"You will drink the poison that your darling daughter retrieved from Oz," the Queen decreed. "Or I will crush Snow's heart."

"You can't—" the king started to say, only for Cora to cut him off with a laugh.

"I can, and I will. And before you get any ideas of heroic self-sacrifice, Snow dear, know that I_ will _kill your father after I kill you. Either way, he dies."

"I won't," Snow swore, but the goblet was already in her shaking hand.

"Mother, _please_," Regina pleaded, taking a hesitant step forward. "Don't do this. You don't have to kill him. You've controlled him this long without anyone knowing. Why kill him now?"

Cora shrugged. "I have a desire to rule unencumbered," she replied nonchalantly, as if killing a husband was something she did every day. _It's not like she hasn't done it before, _Regina thought acidly, gathering her magic. She'd never thought that she could take on her mother, but if she was ever going to be brave, now was the time. Cora's next words, however, brought her up short. "Don't think about resisting me, darling, unless you want Daniel to die as well your sister."

"Mother…" Her magic died on her fingertips, and Regina stood staring. The odds of stopping her mother were so slim to begin with, and what if Cora killed Snow before she could strike? She held Snow's heart, and Regina couldn't watch her sister die. She _couldn't_.

"Kill him," Cora commanded Snow once more, and Snow's turned, oh so slowly, to face her father, the goblet of poisoned wine in hand. She was obviously fighting the command, but without any affect.

"It's all right, Snow," Leopold said bravely, and then looked at Cora. "Give me your word that she will live."

"I have no reason to promise you anything," Cora replied with a sarcastically sweet smile. "But I have no desire to kill your daughter today. After all, _someone _has to take the blame for your death."

"Papa…" Snow whispered brokenly.

"I love you, Snow," the king whispered, taking the goblet out of his daughter's hand and sitting down in the same chair he'd occupied before. He squeezed her now-empty hand briefly, and then downed the goblet without another word.

"_No!_" Snow howled, but she stood frozen, held in place by Cora's hand on her heart. Regina found herself unable to move as well, magic wrapping around her as she watched her sister dissolve into tears. She wanted to go to Snow, wanted to comfort her, but her feet would not budge. Regina wanted to kill her mother, too, burned to stop Cora, but it was too late.

Leopold died quickly, and when the guards came in, Cora ordered them to arrest Snow. Much to Regina's everlasting shame, she stood silently whilst her mother told the guards that their precious princess had poisoned her father, that Cora and Regina had arrived too late to stop Snow. The Huntsman looked absolutely devastated as he led a weeping Snow away, but by then Cora had hidden Snow's heart once more and there was no evidence that anyone other than Snow had done the deed. Regina could only stare at her mother, wide-eyed and horrified, finally understanding the lengths to which Cora would go to serve her own ambition.

"Smile, my sweet," Cora told her serenely. "Today I have made sure you will someday be queen."

* * *

><p>He had started to remember. That was the only possible explanation. Rumplestiltskin—or Gold, at least as far as the rest of Storybrooke was concerned—was not terribly tied into events in town, but even he knew that the sheriff had started acting strangely. He had run into Graham in the woods after burying the dagger that could control his soul, and Graham had seemed rather <em>off <em>even then. The later rant, the one that took place in Granny's over breakfast, Rumplestiltskin had only heard about, but anything that revolved around a missing heart was certain to get his attention. Unfortunately, it had obviously gotten Cora's attention, too.

It was rent collection day for the half of his properties that paid mid-monthly rent, which meant he was out and about when the accident happened. Somehow, the sheriff's squad car went off the road on main street, spinning out of control and bouncing off a fire hydrant on its way to crashing into the front of Dave's Fish and Chips. Coincidentally enough, the owner of that restaurant had been heard rather recently to criticize the mayor's policies. And now a car crashed into his restaurant, destroying the entire storefront and almost everything inside.

_Killing two birds with one stone, are we, dearie?_ Rumplestiltskin thought behind an outwardly expressionless face, watching people rush towards the crushed car and listening to sirens approach from the distance. Cora was clever; he had to give her that. She punished an errant citizen and her rebellious Huntsman at the same time, all under the guise of it being a tragic accident. After all, Rumplestiltskin was certain that there would be no evidence of foul play, no person responsible other than Graham for his car spinning out of control. Cora had the Huntsman's heart, and that would certainly be enough. She'd always done her work well, and he was not surprised.

A crowd was gathering, and he stayed on its outskirts, watching emotionlessly. It was a pity about Graham, of course; Belle would have told him that the Huntsman deserved better. But this was good news. It meant the Savior's presence was beginning to affect things, beginning to make _change. _Emma Swan had spent a great deal of time with the sheriff lately, and she'd clearly broken through to him somehow. But how? He would have to talk to Regina about this.

"I heard that he was drunk," a nearby voice said. Was that Little Miss Muffet? In either world, she was an idiot.

"Nah, not Graham. Not driving, anyway," the little red wolf countered, popping her gum noisily.

"Sara said that he was ranting and raving about missing his heart this morning. Sounds like he was on a bender to me," the other girl countered, and Ruby shrugged.

Rumplestiltskin tuned out the rest of their pointless exchange, watching as the ambulance arrived. The crew ran inside Dave's immediately, and a few moments later, they emerged with a blood-covered Graham on a stretcher, a brace already around his neck and oxygen mask on his face. _Interesting. _That meant Graham was alive, and _that _Rumplestiltskin had not expected. Was Cora slipping, or did she have another game in mind? Or had Graham just been lucky?

There was only one way to find out, and he suspected he would know soon enough.

* * *

><p>Emma stepped up next to the mayor as Cora asked Doctor Whale: "When will he be up and around again?"<p>

Whale blinked, staring at the mayor as if she was absolutely mad. They were outside Graham's hospital room, away from the crowd of well-wishers that had started forming after the accident took place an hour earlier. Emma had had to pull her badge out to get through the group, and she'd caught up with Cora just in time to find the mayor interrogating the hospital's senior doctor.

"Look, Madam Mayor," he said shortly. "I just got done with emergency surgery. At this point, I can tell you that we saved the sheriff's life, but that's _all _I can say. I'm not even sure if he's going to walk again."

"You can't be serious," Cora replied, but to Emma's ears, she didn't sound terribly disbelieving. In fact, she sounded a little…satisfied? No, Emma had to be hearing things, letting her dislike for Henry's grandmother color her reactions.

"I don't joke about things like this," Whale retorted, looking tired. "He's going to be out of it for quite a while."

"Do you know what caused this?" Emma asked before Cora could say something else, and Whale shrugged.

"Tox screening is negative. His BAC is nonexistent. He wasn't drunk and he wasn't taking anything. I don't know what happened. Was there anything in the road?"

"No." Emma shook her head. "I just got back from the scene."

"Then you've obviously missed something," Cora interjected. "Perhaps Deputy Law would be better suited to investigate."

"He _is _investigating, Madam Mayor," she snapped back, her worry for Graham pushing her temper to its limits. "We're working this case together and—"

"You're fired."

"Excuse me?" Emma gaped.

"You were Graham's folly, not mine, and I am through tolerating your incompetence. You are not qualified for this job, and not welcome in my town. You are fired, Miss Swan. Feel free to depart Storybrooke whenever you wish."

Emma could only stare incredulously. "You really know how to make people feel welcome, don't you?"

Cora smiled sweetly, and Whale wisely stayed out of the argument. "Goodbye, Miss Swan."

* * *

><p>Emma stalked out of the hospital ten minutes later, sick of arguing with Storybrooke's bitchy mayor and worried sick over Graham. Her bug was waiting for her, and apparently her job <em>wasn't<em>, so she could do whatever the hell she wanted. But that prospect had become utterly unappealing. Emma had lost a lot of jobs in her time, usually because she felt the need to move on to a new place, but she'd never been fired in under two weeks. This had to be a new record for her, and it wasn't one that felt good at all.

"Bad day, love?" an unfamiliar voice said as the double doors slammed shut behind her, making Emma stop in her tracks.

"Do I know you?" Emma demanded, spinning to look at the dark haired man who was had been leaning against the outer wall of the hospital. He was handsome in a rakish sort of way, with devilish blue eyes, and was dressed in tight fitting jeans and a dark leather jacket. She couldn't remember ever having seen him before, but he looked at her as if he knew her.

"Not yet," he replied with what he probably thought was a charming smile. "My name is Cyril O'Malley. I own the Magical Marina."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Malley," she said as courteously as she could manage, which, at the moment, probably wasn't terribly nicely. But Emma wasn't in the mood for _nice._ Her friend—Graham was at least a friend, and one she was attracted to at that—was in the hospital and possibly paralyzed. Compared to that, losing her job was utterly minor, and now this pretty boy was bothering her.

"Killian," he corrected her.

"Come again?"

"Call me Killian," O'Malley said. "It's my middle name, and I've always rather fancied it."

"Right…" She shook herself. "Then what can I do for you, Killian? I'm afraid that if you're looking for a sheriff's deputy, you're going to have to go find Keith Law. The mayor just fired me."

"Whatever did she do that for?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"Well, what say you that I buy you a drink, then? We'll raise a glass to the sheriff, and—"

"He's not dead," Emma cut him off, probably more hotly than O'Malley deserved, but she refused to give up hope and didn't want to listen to anyone else who had, either.

"Of course he isn't," O'Malley seemed taken aback by her vehemence. "I only meant to say that we can wish him well."

"Right. I'm sorry," Emma apologized. "Now just isn't a good time, okay? I think I just want to head home."

"Of course. Although I do believe I may hit you up for a rain check."

"Sure. Just not today."

Was it messed up that the place she really wanted to go was home to the woman who Henry claimed was supposed to be her mother? Emma had gone her entire life without parents; why was it that she wanted to go home to the comforting presence of Mary Margaret? She was a loner. She didn't _need _anyone else. But now she just wanted to go back to that loft that had somehow become home and tell her roommate about how horrible her day had been, and hope Mary Margaret could somehow make everything better. It defied logic, defied twenty-eight years of surviving on her own, but that was how Emma felt.

* * *

><p>"Well, that didn't go quite as well as I expected," Hook told the queen a few hours later, walking into her office.<p>

"Do tell," Cora replied drily.

"I met Miss Swan. Our _former _deputy, I take it?" he said as he took a seat in the chair across from her desk, glancing briefly in the mirror to admire his own reflection.

"Indeed."

"Well, she wasn't terribly forthcoming. It probably has something to do with the _tragic _accident our good sheriff was in this afternoon," he shrugged. "And I imagine that was absolutely not your doing, of course."

Cora smiled innocently. "How could I possibly have been responsible for Sheriff Graham's car accident?"

"You're a resourceful woman, Madam Mayor. I'm sure you could find a way."

The compliment, however, did not seem to please her. Cora's eyes only narrowed. "Miss Swan. What did you find out about her?"

"Absolutely nothing, unless you count how angry she is. Or worried. With such an abrasive woman, it's rather hard to tell," he said flippantly.

"You don't like her? I would have thought she was your type," Cora responded.

"Oh, she certainly is. I'll work on her," Hook promised.

"See that you do."

There was not much else to say, so Hook headed out after that order. He'd tried to cross Cora once, back in the early days of the curse when he'd thought that he could easily kill Rumplestiltskin in his newly human form. Defying her so had nearly cost him his own life, and Cora had Graham deliver a vicious beating to the rebellious pirate captain in payment for that little indiscretion. That interaction had taught him several valuable lessons. One, that Cora had the good sheriff's heart, and Graham had no choice but to do what she wanted him to. Two, that Cora was _very _aware of what was happening in Storybrooke. Three, and most importantly, that it did not pay to cross the queen-turned-mayor. Being her ally was much safer, and it allowed him to maintain his own memories and sense of self.

Revenge, after all, only mattered to Killian Jones, not to Cyril O'Malley, the personality and name Cora had given him. So, Killian kept his head on his shoulders and worked with Cora, enjoying watching the Dark One stumble through life as Cora's mistreated pet. That wasn't quite the agonizing death Hook had in mind for him, but it was something, at least, and Killian had gotten good at waiting over the last few centuries. Neverland had taught him that, if nothing else.

He had time.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Stay tuned for Chapter Fourteen: "Secrets Revealed", in which Cora threatens Henry and Rumplestiltskin plots to make Emma sheriff. In the past, Regina schemes to free Snow from certain death and Cora makes one last visit to Rumplestiltskin as the curse is cast._

_In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! _


	14. Chapter 14: Secrets Revealed

_**Questions to Answer: **_

_What Happened to Daniel?__ I can't say yet—but I do promise this question will be answered in time. Knowing Cora, however, what do _you _think happened? Is he alive or dead?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Fourteen—"Secrets Revealed"<strong>_

* * *

><p>Regina went to visit Graham as soon as she got off of work. Her mother would have had her head if she left early, of course—Cora was about as compassionate as a dead tree and demanded perfection from everyone in the mayor's office—but Cora couldn't stop her from going to the hospital in her off time. The curse had made Graham her friend here in Storybrooke, and even though Regina <em>now <em>remembered him as the Huntsman, she couldn't forget the very real times that Graham had been a good friend to her here, either. _And he always tried to help us back home, even if Mother usually stopped him, _she thought sadly, standing in the doorway.

Graham looked dead. He wasn't, and Regina knew that—Whale had assured her of it, and although she had no idea who the doctor had been in a past life, at least the curse seemed to have given him the required knowledge to do his job well—but he was so damn pale and lifeless that it broke her heart. Half a day after the accident, Whale had regretfully announced that Graham would probably never walk again…a fact that was depressingly easy to believe when you looked at the sheriff's broken body lying in the bed. He had yet to wake at all, and no one was sure if he would _ever _do so. Just thinking of that made Regina's blood boil with fury, because _she _knew this had been no accident. Everyone else in Storybrooke might think that Graham had been unlucky or careless, but she knew exactly who was responsible.

"It's such a waste, isn't it, darling?" her mother suddenly purred from her side, making Regina jump.

"Mother," she replied through gritted teeth. "I thought you had already visited."

"Can I not visit again? Graham is an old friend of the family."

_One whom you force into your bed occasionally, thanks to having his heart, _Regina didn't say, much though she wanted to snarl that in response. At least that was at an end; if Graham really was paralyzed, he'd be spared Cora's attentions. Still, she could not afford to say any of that; she had to be sweet and obedient Regina Nolan, and say: "Of course he is."

"Still, I suppose that there is a silver lining in every cloud," Cora mused. "I did avail myself of the opportunity to fire Miss Swan now that Graham is unable to voice his opinion on the matter, and that will at least get Henry's birth mother out of his life for you."

"You what?" Regina twisted to stare at her mother.

"You heard me, and you're quite welcome."

"I don't have any problems with Miss Swan," Regina shot back before she could stop herself.

"Well, you should, dear. She threatens everything you and David have so carefully built with Henry, and I will not stand for it. She'll have to leave Storybrooke now that she has no means to support herself." Cora might have thought that her dutiful daughter missed the slight smile that tugged at her lips, but Regina did not. "After all, it's not like Mary Margaret Blanchard can support a second person with _her_ debts."

"And whose fault are those?" The words were out before she thought of them, and Regina bit her tongue too late.

Cora blinked innocently. "I believe you'd have to ask Mr. Gold about that. He's her principle creditor."

"Of course he is," Regina muttered.

"What's gotten into you, darling?"

_Your curse! _she wanted to shout, but managed to snap instead: "My friend is lying there and might not wake up ever again. Isn't that enough?"

"Of course it is." A hand landed on Regina's arm and squeezed, but it took all of her self control not to jerk away. She had rarely hated her mother as much as she did now; Regina could only think of three times when she had felt this boiling rage so strongly, and she devoutly wished that there was magic in Storybrooke. Had there been, she might have tried to kill her mother then and there.

Not that trying _that _had gotten her very far in the past, but Regina was almost beyond caring.

"I'm going to stay awhile, Mother," she said, clinging to the shredded remnants of her self control. "I'm sure you have better things to do than waste your time here."

"Regina, I'm hurt. Why would I not want to come look after Graham?"

"Probably because he's of no use to you now," she said bitterly.

"That's a terrible thing to say," Cora pouted, but Regina was anything but fooled. She was not expecting it, however, when her mother took her by the arm and tugged her inside Graham's empty hospital room (empty except for the still-unconscious sheriff, anyway) and closed the door behind them. "What _has _gotten into you?"

It was the second time Cora had asked that exact question, and Regina's instincts screamed a warning. Slowly, she turned to look at her mother.

"What do you mean, Mother?" she asked cautiously, being careful to temper her tone into a more subservient one than she'd used thus far. But doing so was really hard; she was still seething with anger.

"I mean that you have been acting strangely, and something is clearly going on. What is it?"

"Nothing," Regina replied quickly. "I'm just…worried for Graham."

That had to be enough. Cora had to believe her, right? But her mother's sharp eyes were studying Regina intently, and she had a bad feeling that Cora saw right through her excuses. She _should _have minded her tongue more carefully. This was not the first time Regina had watched helplessly while her mother destroyed someone she cared for; however, now Regina really had had enough.

"Of course you are," Cora repeated, her voice dropping dangerously. "But you should blame our visitor for this tragedy, not Graham."

"_What?_"

An artful shrug. "Well, none of this would have happened if Miss Swan had not begun interfering."

"How is this her fault?" Regina demanded, completely unable to follow her mother's logic.

"Now _that_, my darling girl, is what I want you to tell me," Cora replied, her voice turning icy and her eyes hard.

"I don't know what you mean," she said nervously.

"Don't lie to me, Regina. I know you remember everything." Her mother smiled dangerously. "You are not as good of an actress as you seem to think you are. What I want to know is _why _you remember."

"I—"

"I said not to lie to me. I can destroy this lovely little life of yours with the wave of one hand, beginning with Henry."

"He's your grandson!"

A poisonous snake might have smiled much like this. "He's adopted, dear. Henry isn't your blood, or mine."

"He's still my son!" Regina objected, feeling the color drain out of her face as the walls of her mother's trap closed in. The mask had dropped, and Cora clearly felt no need to play the mild-mannered mayor now. This was the Evil Queen facing Regina, a woman who had killed two husbands and tried for years to kill her stepdaughter, all because Snow was the daughter of a woman she hated. This was the Queen of Hearts, who had undoubtedly smiled with satisfaction as she held Graham's heart in her hand, forcing him to crash his squad car into a restaurant owned by a man who had dared speak against her. Once.

Cora just shrugged again, arching one silent eyebrow. She didn't need to say anything more. Regina got the hint.

"It's been twenty-eight years," she hedged, not daring to lie but struggling to hide the more vital information. "I woke up."

"Why now?" The tone was mild, but Regina was not fooled. Cora mused: "It seems such a coincidence that you would do so just when Miss Swan arrived."

"She's an outsider." Regina tried to shrug casually. "She made things change—"

"Then I suppose I should kill her," was the airy response. "And then you will return to your usual well-behaved self. I don't mind a little change—it keeps things interesting—but this _is _a bit much."

"You can't!"

Were Regina as cold blooded as Rumplestiltskin, she would just let her mother do it. But killing Emma would break Henry's heart in addition to the curse, and Emma was Snow's daughter. She was _family_, Regina's niece and David's daughter, too. In an odd way, Emma was actually Regina's stepdaughter, too, and although the Savior drove Regina crazy sometimes, and odd sort of friendship had grown between them.

"Of course I can," Cora said serenely. "Accidents happen."

"No, you _can't_._"_ She hated herself already, but it would keep Emma safe. _And Henry_. "Not if you want your curse to remain intact."

Cora blinked. "Oh, so Rumple _did _put in a safety valve. He hinted as much."

"I wouldn't know."

But that was a lie her mother saw right through. A small smile flickered across Cora's face, secretive and all-knowing.

"Snow's 'dead' child," the Evil Queen realized slowly. "Born on the eve of the curse, and snuck through to this world. Clever, but you _lied _to me, Regina."

"I protected my family," she snarled, looking her mother right in the eye.

Cora only laughed. "Yes, you always have been _so _good at protecting those you love, haven't you?"

Those words cut in like a knife to the heart, and faces slashed through Regina's mind, the faces of those she had loved and failed to protect. Cora, however, just patted her on the shoulder.

"Love is weakness, dear. I thought you would have learned that by now."

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

Snow had been held under guard in her own rooms after Leopold's death, right up until the farce of a trial that Cora did not bother to attend. A quartet of noble lords questioned the princess while the 'grieving queen' sequestered herself in her chambers with Regina by her side. Horrified, Regina watched as her mother held Snow's heart, forcing her to say that her ambition had driven the princess to murder her father, that Snow was tired of waiting for the king to die of natural causes and admitted to giving him the poison. Snow did not weep—Cora's hold on her heart prevented that—and she came off as cold, callous, and murderous. Needless to say, the trial did not last long, and the guards moved Snow to a dungeon the moment the guilty verdict came down.

Regina snuck down to see her that very night. She was very practiced at visiting the dungeons given how long Daniel had spent in there—nearly ten years, now—but at least Snow was not housed in the lower levels where there was no light at all. Snow's cell even had a window, small and barred though it was, and the moonlight bathed Snow's pale face in an eerie light. Snow was curled up against one wall, her knees pulled up close to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her head was tipped back to lean against the wall and her eyes closed; she looked almost like a corpse, and Regina might have been worried were Snow's shoulders not shaking so hard.

She was crying when Regina arrived, and didn't even seem to notice when Regina's glare forced the guards back several paces. Regina no longer cared what the guards saw, though. What were they going to do, tell Cora that Regina had visited her sister?

"Snow?" she whispered.

"Regina!" her sister's head snapped forward and her eyes flew open. She jumped to her feet immediately and came to the front of the cell, which gave Regina a good look at her tear-streaked face. "What are you doing here?"

The unspoken question of _Why weren't you at my trial?_ hung between them, so Regina answered that instead:

"Mother wouldn't let me go to the trial," she whispered, ashamed. "I wanted to defend you, but…"

"But she wants me dead," Snow finished for her, sounding utterly defeated. "Just like my father."

"I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop her. I _tried_, but she's too powerful."

Snow shook her head and managed a small smile. "It's not your fault. I know who to blame."

"I'm still sorry," Regina said around the heavy lump in her throat.

"Me, too," Snow replied, reaching through the bars. The sisters gripped one another's hands tightly, holding on for dear life. "When she executes me, you'll be all alone."

"Don't say that! She can't think—"

"The date is already set," her sister cut her off bitterly. "Four days from now. Cora even says she'll give me back my heart tomorrow so that I can feel every moment leading up to it."

Regina squeezed her hand hard, anger and determination giving her strength. "I'm not letting that happen."

"Regina…"

"Say nothing. I'll talk to Mother."

That last bit was said solely for the guards' benefit, but what Regina meant—and what Snow understood—was that she had work to do. Four days wasn't much, but she was a sorceress. She could do this. She _could _save her sister from Cora, could save Snow when she hadn't been able to save Daniel. Regina had learned a thing or two since then, and she'd start by distracting her mother with a heartfelt plea for Snow's life. Then she'd act, after Cora had given Snow her heart back and had no way to control her if she escaped.

"I'll be back," she promised, releasing Snow's hands and stepping away from the cell. Her mind was already whirling, thinking on what kingdom would accept an exiled princess, and Regina strode out of the dungeons with her head held high.

* * *

><p>Rumplestiltskin supposed he would have done this even had Cora not unilaterally named the noxious Sheriff of Nottingham to that same position in Storybrooke, but the fact that the miserable lowlife had once tried to bargain for Belle only made the situation sweeter. Keith Law was a real piece of work, too, a lecherous drunk who tried to stalk Lacey French and frightened her more than once. Rumplestiltskin was more than happy to ruin his life, just as Gold would have been, and the way Cora would be irked by his actions only added icing to the cake. He would take any victory he could get at this point, and this one would be sweet, if subtle.<p>

So he knocked on Mary Margaret Blanchard's loft door with an easy smile on his face, and if the expression made poor, cursed Snow White uneasy, well, that was too bad. "I'm here to see Miss Swan," he said before Mary Margaret could speak. "Your rent isn't due for another week."

"Oh. Right," Mary Margaret stuttered. "Of course." She turned away, shouting quickly: "Emma! You have a visitor!"

"Coming!"

Mary Margaret looked at him nervously, eying the large three ring binder Rumplestiltskin held in his hand. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," Rumplestiltskin replied courteously. Cora had done enough damage to her stepdaughter; he saw no reason to do more. Making her into a shaking mess would not further his purposes in any way. Fortunately, Emma came down the stairs quickly, looking suspiciously at Rumplestiltskin. _Good for her._

"What are you doing here, Gold? Come to call in that favor already?" she demanded.

He laughed softly. "Oh, no. I'm actually here to offer you some assistance."

Emma blinked. "Excuse me?"

"May I?" Rumplestiltskin walked over to the table and put the binder down, gesturing meaningfully.

"Sure." The Savior continued to watch him warily, but sat down across from him without hesitation. Rumplestiltskin usually preferred to conduct business while standing, but having a cane was a major nuisance when he needed two hands for something.

"I think I'll go take a bath," Mary Margaret announced into the silence as Rumplestiltskin flipped to the appropriate page. Neither he nor Emma bothered to watch her flee.

"I understand that our dear mayor fired you," he said as an opening.

"And named Keith as Sheriff," she confirmed bitterly, and Rumplestiltskin barely managed not to smile. Emma Swan was invested in Storybrooke, now, and in more than just young Henry Nolan. That was excellent. _Better than I'd dared imagine, truth be told._

"Ah, but if you take the time to examine the Storybrooke charter, you'll find that she can't exactly do that," he countered. "It's amazing how few people bother to _read _the document."

"So what does it say?" Emma asked impatiently.

Now Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to smile. "That the office of sheriff is decided by a city-wide election, not by the mayor's whim. She can't simply choose a sheriff, not if someone runs against him."

The Savior was no fool; she caught on immediately. "You want _me _to run. I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Not without a benefactor, no."

"And you're volunteering."

"Indeed I am."

Emma's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Why?"

"Call me a concerned citizen," he shrugged. "And I believe you have…potential to make a difference here in Storybrooke."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked suspiciously, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Nothing is free with you."

"Oh, this one will be its own reward," he replied, already imagining Cora's reaction. "Just put your name out there, and let me do the rest."

* * *

><p><span><em>As the Curse is Cast<em>

"Back already, _Your Majesty_? I thought you'd be too busy celebrating your victory to visit little ol' me," he giggled, watching as the swirl of purple smoke resolved into his onetime lover and student.

It was about time she showed up. He was sick to death of this rat-invested cell, thoroughly tired of solitary confinement and just ready to get _on _with it. Three months locked in this hellhole was starting to do damage to his sanity, and his curse had been positively howling for release ever since he'd let them lock him in this place. Oh, he could have escaped, but he'd been waiting for this moment, waiting for Cora to come to him for one final deal. And now it was time.

"Oh, I am," Cora purred, her eyes glittering darkly. "I simply wanted to say goodbye to an old friend, first."

"And you wanted something."

The Evil Queen shrugged. "I wanted to offer you an opportunity, a better life than the one I promised you."

"Oh, did you, now?" Here it came, his opportunity to twist the curse to his own ends. Rumplestiltskin had known Cora would come. Truth be told, he'd looked forward to this day, out of boredom if nothing else. Possibilities whirled in his mind; Rumplestiltskin had already set his own second safety valve into the curse to protect his family, but he would take whatever else Cora offered if he could. Carefully.

"I've missed you, Rumple." Boldly, Cora stepped forward, reaching through the bars to touch his face. "Rule by my side in this new world, and I will give you everything you desire, and more."

Scowling, he drew back. Now he wasn't laughing at all, not even sarcastically. "You burned me once, dear, and I've a _long _memory."

"Don't test me," Cora snapped more angrily than he would have expected. She _did _want him, then. Pity it was too late. "I am offering you the world. You would do better to bend your foolish pride and accept."

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "Your curse isn't as infallible as you think."

"Of course it isn't. You're never that simple." She shrugged regally. "What did you do?"

Ah, there was his opening. Her offer had been unexpected, but this was not. Rumplestiltskin might have had to manipulate the conversation around to this point, but he had her now.

"Give me the power to determine two individuals' fate under your curse, and I will tell you everything," he offered.

"Two people? Why?"

He shrugged and offered her a nasty smile, all blackened teeth and rotten soul. "There are small revenges I would enact."

It was not an answer to her question, not quite, but Cora need not know that. He dared not tell her the full truth, not if he wanted Belle and Gabrielle to be safe.

Cora studied him for a long moment, and Rumplestiltskin met her eyes. She was smart and tricky, this woman he had once loved, but he had been playing this game far longer than she. Still, she watched him carefully, her intelligent eyes calculating and then narrowing ominously.

"No," she finally said. "I don't think I will."

"And here I thought you were enjoying your vengeance," Rumplestiltskin replied lightly, cocking his head. "Would you deny me the same?"

"Yes. Yes, I believe I will," Cora replied. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin. I will see you soon."

Missing the threat in her voice was impossible, but Rumplestiltskin giggled anyway, as if he was a mad creature who did not care for her power. Cora started to disappear, but he called after her:

"Sooner than you think, dearie!"

Then Cora was gone, leaving Rumplestiltskin alone in his dark cell without the guarantee that he had sought. Still, he had planned for this eventuality, had known he might not get what he wanted despite his best efforts. Cora did not know he had a wife and child; she didn't know Belle even _existed_. Thus, she should pay them little attention in their new world, and his family would be treated like any of the other thousands of innocents who got caught up in the curse, receiving generalized misery but no special cruelties. But the hunger in Cora's eyes worried Rumplestiltskin, and he was still wondering why that made a cold chill run down his spine when the curse cloud arrived.

* * *

><p>Emma announced her candidacy the next day, and Henry volunteered to help her and Mary Margaret put flyers up all over town. Regina was strangely quiet on the matter, but David tagged along, laughing and joking with Mary Margaret like they had known one each other their entire lives, despite what Henry seemed to think. Hell, maybe they had known one another forever. Storybrooke was a small town—although not as small as its residents seemed to think, a fact Emma discovered every time she did rounds as a deputy—and they probably had gone to school together. After all, Storybrooke only had one high school, and Emma didn't think Mary Margaret and David's ages were very far apart at all.<p>

Even if the fact that neither of them could really remember school in more than vague terms was pretty disturbing. _Just another thing that's weird in this town, _Emma told herself, and tried not to think about it.

Regardless, they finished posting the flyers that same afternoon, freeing Emma to pay Graham another visit the following morning. He was awake, if groggy, and Emma was so glad to see him alive that she almost got a little choked up.

"Whale says that I might regain feeling in my legs," Graham was telling her with a tired smile. "Apparently—and there was a lot of medical mumbo jumbo that I missed in there—he's a brilliant surgeon and might be able to fix me."

Emma couldn't help snorting. "And he's _so _modest, too."

Graham laughed, but it turned into a strained cough. At least he was off oxygen now, and his pallor had stopped matching the bed sheets quite so exactly, but he still looked like hell. "Always has been."

"It's good to see you awake," she replied, reaching out tentatively to squeeze his hand.

"It's good to be awake, yeah," he agreed, but then Emma saw Graham's gaze shift off of her face and to her left, which made Emma glance over her shoulder, hoping the new visitor was someone she at least got along with.

Unfortunately, it was Cora. The mayor gave her a patronizing smile before looking at the man lying in bed. "Graham, dear, it's so good to see you awake."

Was it only Emma's imagination, or did the former sheriff go even more pale?

"Cora," he said levelly, looking very wary.

"We need to have a chat when you are feeling better," Cora purred. "But for now, I've talked to your doctor about adding some anti-psychotic medications to your daily regimen. After all, we can't have you repeating that episode from the other morning, babbling about fairy tales and missing hearts."

"Of course not," Graham replied through gritted teeth, and Emma felt her gaze snapping back and forth between the two of them. Something was wrong, but what?

Nothing made sense in this damn town.

"I'm glad we understand one another," the mayor continued, and then turned to Emma. "A word, if you please, Miss Swan?"

"You gonna be okay?" She looked at Graham instead of at Cora, and got a tired nod out of him.

"Go on," he said, looking as if he didn't want to talk to anyone, anymore.

So, Emma rose and followed Cora into the hallway, which was strangely deserted except for a red-haired nurse down the other end who didn't seem to be listening. The mayor's smile vanished the moment they left Graham's private room, and when she turned on Emma, her eyes were hard. Cora Mills was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous people Emma had ever met, but if she thought a glare could intimidate Emma Swan, well, Cora really did have another thing coming. Emma only straightened her shoulders and cocked an eyebrow at the woman who seemed to inexplicably hate her, and waited.

"I think you should not visit Graham like this. It only confuses him," Cora said archly.

"Confuses him? Lady, I think you're on another planet. Graham's perfectly fine, and he needs all the friends he can get."

"Well, you won't be one of them. While Graham is disabled, I am his medical proxy, and I filed a temporary restraining order against you this morning," the mayor replied smugly. "So, stay away from him."

"Why?" Emma demanded.

"I think you're a toxic influence on my town, and I will root you out, no matter what it takes." Surprisingly enough, the words were said almost conversationally, but Emma certainly caught the threat. It wasn't even subtle.

"Look, Madam Mayor, if anyone here is toxic, it's _you._ And I bet that restraining order won't stand up for a minute in court," she snapped back, bristling. Graham was her friend, damn it, and Emma wasn't going to leave him to face this alone.

"Won't it?" Cora cocked her head. "You were the one who got him drunk the night before his accident. If anyone is at fault, it's you."

"I didn't get him drunk! He was sober when he went home." And talking about needing to find his missing heart, but that didn't count for drunk. They'd only had two drinks each on that date.

"Graham will testify that you did."

Emma stared. "He'll _what_?"

Cora just smiled. "Goodbye, Miss Swan. May I recommend leaving Storybrooke before the scandal breaks? I can't imagine that anyone will want to elect a former juvenile delinquent as sheriff, either, so your ambitions are bound to come to nothing."

"Those records are supposed to be _sealed._"

"Oops." A shrug, and then Cora turned to walk away.

Emma had had it. Reaching out quickly, she grabbed the mayor by the arm and pulled her around so that they were face to face. "You must not know me very well, _Madam Mayor_, but I don't respond really well to threats. You might think you can scare me into leaving, but that only makes me want to stay more. You tell your boy Keith to expect a fight, because I'm damn well going to be elected Sheriff."

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Oh, dear! What do you think is going to happen now that Cora knows Regina remembers and Rumplestiltskin is pulling Emma's strings?_

_Next up: Chapter Fifteen—"Reap What You Sow", where Hansel and Gretel are thieves, Emma makes a mistake with Keith, and Sidney Glass volunteers to help Emma. Back in the past, the Sheriff of Nottingham comes to Rumplestiltskin for a deal, a genie falls in love with Princess Regina, and Rumplestiltskin visits Cora after her wedding to Leopold._


	15. Chapter 15: Reap What You Sow

_**Questions to Answer: **_

_Does Cora have Regina's heart?__ No. Regina's heart is where it belongs – right in her chest. Cora contemplates taking it a few times to teach her daughter a lesson, but never does. In the end, she finds Regina's ability to love…useful._

_What's going to happen when Neal/Baelfire shows up?__ I can't spoil too much, but he will show up earlier than he does in the show, and for different reasons. Readers of my previous stories know that I adore him, so if you want to see him, don't despair!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Fifteen—"Reap What You Sow"<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Hey, where'd the chess set go?" Emma asked curiously, plopping down at the table after putting groceries away. She still had a good chunk of change saved up from her days as a bail bondswoman, so even without a job she was doing better than Mary Margaret, which meant she certainly wasn't going to let the struggling schoolteacher buy food and other necessities for her. And if Emma happened to buy more than she needed when she was at the store, well…Mary Margaret was doing most of the cooking, so Emma often argued that at least she could do the shopping.<p>

"What was that?" her roommate (mother?) called from upstairs, and Emma heard the thump-thump-thump of her heading down them. Taking a quick look around, she tried to see if Mary Margaret had moved the chess board in question, but Emma couldn't see it anywhere.

She might not have ever noticed it was missing had the two of them not been talking about the chess set the night before; it was one of the few things of value that Mary Margaret had inherited from her father, and she had been a hair's breadth away from pawning it to Mr. Gold when Emma moved in. In fact, Mary Margaret actually _had _intended to take it to the pawn shop that very day if Emma hadn't talked her out of doing so. Emma wasn't a big fan of chess (she'd played a handful of times in group homes and knew she didn't have the patience for the game; it only made her want to shoot people), but she did know how to judge the value of a set like that. There was no way that Gold would give Mary Margaret what the antique golden chess set was worth, and besides, Mary Margaret was very attached to the set. Just the thought of selling it made her start to tear up, and Emma wasn't going to let her new friend do that to herself.

"The chess set," Emma repeated. "Where'd you put it?"

"It should still be on the coffee table," was the confused response as Mary Margaret reached the bottom of the stairs. "Isn't it?"

"No, not at all," Emma replied, turning to look at the table in question. The chess set definitely wasn't there—but a small, folded up piece of paper was. "What's this?"

"Oh, no," Mary Margaret whispered, sitting down rather suddenly on the couch, her face pale and drawn. "Why did this have to happen _now_? Just when things were getting better…"

Emma frowned, sitting down next to her after snagging the paper. "Whoa, slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Just read it," her roommate whispered, sounding defeated.

So Emma did. The note was simple, typed in a standard font on cheap paper, and judging from the 'Storybrooke Free Public Library' printed down in the bottom right corner, it had obviously come from one of the free computers at the library. So, no good clues there. But the text itself was a bit more helpful:

_Ms. Blanchard, _it read. _Your chess set is missing. If you wish to see it again, leave $400 in the mailbox at 43 Dunfell Road._ The note was sighed: _The Twins._

"What the hell is this?" Emma demanded.

A moment passed before Mary Margaret replied, her head buried in her hands. "They're kids. Nicholas and Ava Zimmer, the twins. They live in Fagin's Group Home."

"Why do you look so worried, then? This'll be easy enough to fix. I'll go down there and talk to whoever's in charge—"

"No, don't!"

Emma drew back, staring at her friend. "Why not?"

"Because then they'll only ask for more money. And if you talk to Mr. Tollak, he'll claim to know nothing and be unable to control the wild children," Mary Margaret whispered.

"Tollak runs the group home, right? Slimy, sneaky looking bastard?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "The kids steal for him. They always give back what they take after you pay them, but if you talk to Mr. Tollak, the price doubles. Or if you try to go to the police, it triples." She sighed helplessly. "There's nothing to do but pay them, but where will I get the money?"

"I'll talk to Keith. It doesn't have to be you that goes to the police, Mary Margaret. Keith might be a lecherous prick, but he's the acting sheriff. He _has _to do something," Emma told her.

"Yeah, like get a kickback from the money they take," was the glum response.

"Really?"

Mary Margaret just nodded again, looking close to tears. Moved, Emma reached out and took her hand.

"I've got the money," she said softly. "Let me take care of this, okay?"

* * *

><p>"You really suck at this job, don't you?" Emma said, strolling into the sheriff's station the next morning. She'd spent the evening before driving by Number 43, Dunfell Road—which was, as she'd remembered, an abandoned house that had seen better days—and reassuring Mary Margaret that she wouldn't do anything to make things worse. But still, she <em>had <em>to talk to Keith about this one—he was the acting sheriff, and besides, Emma had a hard time thinking that he was clever enough to be taking kickbacks from anyone.

"Says the chick who got fired," Keith countered from behind a stack of paperwork that didn't seem to be going anywhere fast. Then he smiled. "But I could hook you up with a nice job at the Rabbit Hole, if you want. You're not exactly as…_soft _as the boys like 'em, but you'll do. If you keep your mouth shut."

Emma's eyes almost bugged out of her head. "_What?_" she gaped.

"Just offering." Keith shrugged.

"Offering _what_?" From the tone of his voice, it could have been anything from exotic dancing to prostitution, and Emma wasn't sure which one insulted her more.

"Come talk to Mr. Morgan and find out," he replied with a grin that Emma _definitely _found insulting.

"Screw you," she retorted conversationally, and then crossed her arms. "I'm here to report a crime, you know."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" the acting sheriff drawled, sitting back in Graham's chair as if he owned it. Watching that made Emma feel a little bit sick, but she forced herself to remain focused.

"Some kids stole something from Mary Margaret Blanchard. I want you to investigate it."

"Students causing problems aren't my business, Swan. Try taking that to Principal Cole."

"They stole it from our _apartment_," Emma stressed, rolling her eyes. "Not a school problem."

"Sounds like rowdy kids to me."

"Sounds like the group home in town can't keep tabs on their kids to me," she shot back.

Keith shrugged again, sipping his coffee—which, knowing him, probably had a bit of whiskey in it. "Not my problem." Then her perked up slightly. "How much're they asking?"

Emma stared, unable to believe his gall. Here Keith was, practically _admitting _that he knew what was going on, without even blinking an eye. How messed up _was _this town? "That's not your business," she scowled, and turned for the door. But she didn't walk out without leaving a parting shot behind: "You're a real waste of oxygen, you know that? You're not half the man Graham is."

She'd known he was an idiot and sometimes a drunk, but Emma hadn't thought Keith was that corrupt. Obviously, she would have to fix this problem herself—and be prepared to fork over a lot more cash if the price really did triple like Mary Margaret seemed to think it would. She hadn't meant to make things worse by going to Keith, but then, Emma hadn't expected this to be such a mess. She'd promised Mary Margaret that she'd fix things, and she was still going to do just that. No matter what it took.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 years, 1 month Before the Curse<em>

A certain amount of courage—or stupidity—was required to show up in the castle of the man who had once ripped your tongue out, even if you did want to make a deal. Rumplestiltskin could admire that, provided the trait in play was actually courage, but at the moment, he only found the intrusion annoying. Particularly when it was the semi-sober Sheriff of Nottingham shouting for him down in the entrance hall. If he left the idiot alone, who knew what he would fumble his way into breaking? Normally, Rumplestiltskin would ignore an unwelcome visitor for a few minutes, just to remind them who had the power in his castle, but he didn't want his belongings harmed in the process. Still, he scowled.

Belle had been back for less than a month, and they were still trying to figure out exactly what this relationship of theirs meant. Obviously, he loved her—his heart fluttered just _thinking _about her, curse or no—and she continued to prove to him that she really did love him as well, despite the fact that she really shouldn't. Not being able to kiss put a bit of a damper on their ability to demonstrate their love in a more physical fashion, however, and Belle was no Cora. Belle was a lady, the daughter of a knight who had come to love a monster, not the miller's ambitious daughter. Cora had given her virginity away long before she'd jumped into bed with him, and Rumplestiltskin was determined not to steal Belle's innocence like that.

Even if resisting said temptation was almost impossible, made worse by Belle herself. For example, when Nottingham arrived, she had been brazenly sitting on his lap to show him something in some book or another. Rumplestiltskin had next to no idea what she'd been reading him, only that he'd needed a touch of magic to keep himself from rather visibly reacting to her presence. She probably had no idea, knowing Belle; sometimes, she was so innocent that it hurt. But leather pants were such a nuisance at times.

"What do you want?" he barked, waving a hand so that the doors to the great hall opened as Belle jumped off his lap. Rumplestiltskin stood as she did so, making sure his magic had his body _firmly _in check at the same time.

The Sheriff of Nottingham stomped through the doors, and then stopped cold upon seeing Belle. She was in her blue and white dress today—she said she liked it, even though Rumplestiltskin had given her dozens of nicer dresses than that, insisting she not look the part of the servant she no longer was—and Nottingham seemed to notice how low cut that dress was. His eyes immediately focused on her chest, shining slightly…and then he licked his lips. And then stared for another long moment. Rumplestiltskin could feel discomfort radiating off of Belle, as well as his own curse snarling possessively, so he stepped forward, snapping:

"You're here to see _me_, dearie. "Unless I need to remind you of the lesson in manners I taught you lasttime?"

_That _made Nottingham's eyes snap up. "No. I'm here to make a deal."

"Yes, yes, yes. Most people are. Tell me what you want," Rumplestiltskin gestured, and a full goblet of wine appeared on the table. That drew Nottingham's gaze, too, though not as hungrily as Belle had, and Rumplestiltskin gave him a nasty smile as he sat back down in his high-backed chair, lifting the goblet to take a sip.

_Do I want to get him drunk and make him more careless, or get rid of the oaf as soon as possible?_ he wondered to himself, sneaking a glance at Belle. She looked annoyed, now, and still a little tense; although she trusted Rumplestiltskin not to hand her over to the sheriff these days, she obviously didn't like the man any more than he did. Giving her a slight wink, Rumplestiltskin gestured, and magic pulled a second chair out for Belle. Nottingham took a step forward as she seated herself gracefully, clearly interpreting that as an invitation, but a second flick of the Dark One's fingers made the other two chairs vanish in a swirl of maroon smoke.

Belle giggled softly, and the sound was music to his ears.

Nottingham stumbled slightly, and then shot Rumplestiltskin a confused look. But the sheriff seemed to gather himself, saying bluntly: "I want you to take care of an outlaw for me. And I want his woman."

"Can't make her love you, dear. Magic doesn't work like that," Rumplestiltskin replied, turning the rest over in his mind. Oh, he could guess what outlaw Nottingham wanted, and judging from the glare Belle was shooting him, she disliked the idea of handing Robin Hood over to this oaf. Truth be told, Rumplestiltskin rather sympathized more with the outlaw than the sheriff; even if Hood hadn't managed to make it out of his castle, he was at least skilled in his trade. The same could not be said for his enemy.

"I don't care if she loves me," Nottingham shrugged. "I just want her."

"Isn't there…a child?" Rumplestiltskin asked curiously, just to see what Nottingham would say. But this was the man who'd bargained for twenty minutes with his 'wench'; Rumplestiltskin supposed he should not be surprised with the answer he got.

"So?"

Images whirled through his mind, threads of possible futures mixing in with the present, and Rumplestiltskin quickly picked the one out that mattered the most. The woman…Marian, he thought her name was—not that it mattered—was going to die. Not today, and not even in the very near future, but it would happen eventually. Cora would probably be at fault, not that that came as a surprise, and that would clear the way for something far more important. The child would be important, too, important in the grand scheme of things, too, and not just because he was an innocent child. An infant barely born, too, if Rumplestiltskin's math was correct.

And there was nothing that made him angrier than the thought of someone abusing or abandoning a child. Nothing at all.

"Isn't this…woman a prisoner right now? A prisoner of some minion of the Evil Queen?" he asked.

"They say that even Queen Cora is afraid of you, and that you can work any deal," Nottingham confirmed. "I want her. And I want the outlaw _dead_."

"You're asking quite a lot," he replied airily, aware of Belle's unhappy look but ignoring it for now. "What are you offering in return?"

"The silver arrow of Herne the Hunter."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Is that all?"

"It's one of the most magical objects in Sherwood Forest!" Nottingham looked supremely put out that Rumplestiltskin hadn't immediately started drooling.

"It _was _one of the most magical objects. It's old, dearie, and just about drained. Not terribly important," he laughed. "Certainly not enough to cross an Evil Queen for." _Nor enough to derail the future for._

"Fine, then. Just the outlaw dead."

"What about the child?" Belle asked exactly the question that Rumplestiltskin was wondering about, but Nottingham looked at her like she'd grown a second head. Was the man unaware of the fact that women could _talk_? What a fool.

"What about him?" Nottingham shrugged, and then looked back at Rumplestiltskin. "Do we have a deal? The arrow for the outlaw's death? I thought you didn't like him, anyway."

Rumplestiltskin let out a giggle, the high-pitched and nasty one that gave so many people the chills. "I don't want your arrow. It's useless."

"But you have to. They say you'll make any deal, that you can make anything happen."

The Sheriff didn't seem able to comprehend why Rumplestiltskin was saying no, but in fairness to him, it wasn't only about the arrow. Under other circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would have been happy to add Herne's legendary silver arrow to his collection, but these were not normal circumstances. Firstly, Belle was against him killing Robin Hood—or even arranging that death—and Rumplestiltskin didn't want the arrow enough to risk upsetting her. Particularly not when she'd just come back a month earlier and might leave again if he acted so foolishly. Secondly, however, and far more importantly, he now knew that his earlier failure to kill Hood had unlocked an interesting series of future events, one where the outlaw would _matter_. His wife, apparently captured already, needed to die, but it was imperative that Hood did not. They'd need him later.

"I certainly can, but only for a price. And you have nothing I want," he told Nottingham bluntly, and then waved an airy hand. "Be gone with you. I have better things to do than listen to you whine.

"I—_what_?"

"I don't want to make a deal with you, Sheriff," Rumplestiltskin spelled it out slowly. "So leave before I decide to take something in exchange for my time, which you have definitely wasted."

Nottingham looked absolutely affronted, but then his gaze flicked again to Belle, who was smiling at him primly although her blue eyes were shining with amusement. The Sheriff, on the other hand, looked furiously hungry and lustful, and his expression made the Dark One's curse snarl furiously. Rumplestiltskin didn't have to be able to see the future to know what Nottingham had in mind; for some reason, the oaf seemed to think he was entitled to a consolation prize because Rumplestiltskin chose not to do a deal with him. Thinking like that had to require a massive degree of self-entitlement, but Rumplestiltskin had met the type before. Nottingham had never encountered a woman he wanted and could not have, perhaps with the exception of this Marian who had married the outlaw he hated so much. He viewed women as objects, or at best, prizes to be won and possessed.

"Don't even think about it, dearie," he said softly and dangerously.

Nottingham's eyes jerked back up to look at him, and his anger over having been denied spilled over. "I deserve—"

Rumplestiltskin came to his feet, spell in hand, before he even finished framing his thoughts regarding his intention. His curse was nearly as possessive over Belle as Rumplestiltskin was protective, and it gleefully combined with his knowledge to craft a nasty and appropriate solution. Purple sparks filled his right palm, and he flicked his fingers towards the Sheriff in a simple and small motion that nonetheless made Nottingham stumble back a step as the sparks struck him square in the groin.

"What you deserve," Rumplestiltskin said softly, prowling forward on the balls of his feet, "is to never be able to lie with a woman again. You've both wasted my time _and _insulted my Lady here, and that means I will take something from you in exchange."

"You can't!"

He smiled nastily. "I already have. But"—he held up a finger as all the color drained out of Nottingham's face—"I am not unreasonable. If you find a woman who _truly _loves you, and one you love in return, you'll be able to adequately…preform."

The last work was accompanied by an unkind snicker; his curse both loved and hated the last caveat, for it provided for hope (easily dashed) and temptation (always fun to taunt people with). But Rumplestiltskin figured that Belle, even given how Nottingham had practically drooled on her, might dislike his elegant solution to the problem, so he decided to bend a little and add the last bit. But only if the thug-like Sheriff could actually learn how to love and earn love in return. Otherwise, Nottingham would be more impotent than a eunuch.

"Now go before I decide upon a worse fate for you."

Nottingham might have been a fool, but even he could take that hint, and he fled.

* * *

><p>"She seems to think that she's going to win," Nottingham complained, and it took all of Cora's patience not to roll her eyes. She had invited the acting sheriff to her home for dinner, just for a chance to have a little chat, but now she was starting to regret that decision.<p>

Oh, not the decision to choose Keith Law to fill the role his original self had in Nottingham. Cora didn't regret that in the slightest—he wasn't the best man for the job, not by a long shot, but he was a man who she could control. Cora knew Keith's weaknesses, knew his faults, and knew what drove him. She knew how to bribe him, who already had, and where he kept the nest egg he had assembled over the years. The situations that Cora hadn't set up she could still exploit, even now that time was moving and things were changing. _People _didn't change, after all, even if she cursed them into different aspects of their personalities, and she knew the key people in Storybrooke. Just like she knew Keith.

Cora still had the meticulous notes she had taken before casting the curse. She had spent months carefully recording facts about people who she intended to punish or use, months planning her revenge out down to the very last detail. She had never intended for time to start moving again, but she had always known that _something _would eventually change—and truth be told, she was rather satisfied with the challenge that faced her. Cora had always known that Rumple had inserted some loophole or another; had he not done something devious, her old teacher would never have let himself be swept up by the curse at all. _Of course _he had programmed a Savior into the curse. The only surprise was that he had told Regina enough that Regina could wake herself up and help her step-niece.

_He set her up, _Cora realized with a mental sigh. _Rumple didn't have the patience to help Eva's annoying little granddaughter, so he used _my daughter _to do his dirty work. _Not snarling out loud was hard. It was bad enough that Regina had chosen _Snow _instead of her own mother. Now she was letting Rumplestiltskin use her by proxy, and the bastard wasn't even awake to actively do so.

"Are you even listening to me?" Keith whined, and now Cora did roll her eyes.

"Of course I am," she snapped. "And Miss Swan is not going to be sheriff. Not in my town."

"So, you're going to rig the election." He sounded unsurprised and rather hopeful. Cora knew that Keith Law was no great paragon of virtue, and she hadn't even had to create him to be that way. No, Nottingham had been just as amoral and selfish before the curse. She hadn't needed to do any work on that front at all.

"Now, why would I do that?" she asked, cocking her head and smiling slightly.

"Probably because I'm not very popular."

Cora laughed. "You are a known quantity; she is not. And she's a former juvenile delinquent who gave birth to my grandson while she was in jail. I don't think that Miss Swan will offer you any competition at all."

Her smear campaign was already in the works, after all, and Cora still had plenty of control over Storybrooke. Emma Swan would _not _become Sheriff, not if she had anything to say about this, and Cora most certainly did.

* * *

><p><span><em>15 Years Before the Curse<em>

She had not expected him to show up, not the day after her glamorous and showy second wedding. Cora had been too busy to think about past lovers, even ones who still tugged on her non-existent heartstrings. She was an undisputed queen now, queen of one of the most important and rich kingdoms in all of the Enchanted Forest. Oh, it was her husband's kingdom, but he quite fancied himself head over heels in love with her—thanks to the dozen and a half spells Cora had wrapped around him—and would let her do whatever she pleased. Of course, magic could not make someone actually fall in love, but Cora wasn't looking for real, genuine love. Leopold _had _wanted to love her once, however, which merely opened the door for her to influence him, to crush his free will and make him _believe _he loved her. Doing so required constant care, frequent contact, and more than a little power, but Cora was certainly up to the task.

Still, she had not anticipated Rumplestiltskin's arrival, and unexpected events always put her on edge. Cora spun to face him as he invaded her dressing room, her hands up and magic charged in the air between them. At this point, she would not have been surprised if he attacked her, and she was _not _going to give up now, not when she had finally won. However, Rumplestiltskin made no aggressive moves; instead he leaned against a wall, crossed his ankles, and gave her an appraising look that stillcould send a shiver down her spine, heartless or not. But Cora was not happy to see him. She refused to be.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Admiring the view," he replied with a giggle and a flourish. Then the imp offered her a sarcastic bow. "Queen Cora. All your dreams have come true. Is it everything you thought it would be?"

"Everything and more," Cora replied, raising her chin imperiously. She had no regrets, even if Rumplestiltskin seemed to think that she should.

Why was it that every other man seemed insignificant compared to him? It had to be about power; in that respect, no one alive could hold a candle to Rumplestiltskin. That, and Cora _had _loved him. She really had, even if her own ambition had been more important to her. For several long months, she had been prepared to give up even her most cherished dreams to go with him, and that fact had terrified her. Cora had scraped her way up from nothing through sheer determination and spirit. She was not going to let go of her dreams just because her heart had betrayed her and fallen in love. Power was more important than love; love was only weakness.

"I hope it is, and that you enjoy this _loveless _marriage you've bought yourself." Dark reptilian eyes studied her intently. "And that you're prepared to pay the price of such magic."

Cora snorted. "I already paid the price," she retorted, thinking on how the horrible life she'd been born into would more than pay for a few love spells. "This is no more than what I deserve."

That made him laugh softly. "Is it now? Worth killing your _dear _husband for, then?"

"Of course."

She had always suspected that Rumplestiltskin had a hand in the way her first husband's older brothers turned out to be oddly resistant to any spells or enchantments that might harm them. Cora had tried everything she could find, and yet Henry's three older brothers clung annoyingly to life, as did his crafty and ruthless father. Eventually, Xavier had been succeeded by his eldest son, which hadn't exactly been what she had planned when she agreed to marry a fourth son. Had Cora been able to conveniently remove the other brothers from the equation—as she intended—she would have become a queen much sooner, and would have had a very pliable husband at her side. But those princes refused to die, and she was wise enough to recognize that as Rumplestiltskin's revenge. Jilting a man like him did not come without a price, although that was one that Cora was through with paying.

"Well, I can't say I mourn him," the imp giggled, and Cora shrugged.

"I suppose you would not."

Even the monster was human enough to hate the man she'd left him for, apparently, although he'd never done her the favor of removing Henry from the equation. _That _would have been much simpler than disposing of her late husband herself; there were already whispers in her new kingdom that Cora had a hand in Henry's death. Leopold, enchanted and besotted as he was, quashed such rumors every time they came to his ears, but they persisted anyway. Truth be told, Cora did not care if her new subjects thought her ruthless and cold. She was not out to earn their love. Eva, bitch that she was, had proven that the populace's love was meaningless. None of them had seen her for what she was, so Cora did not care what they thought of her. They were all fools.

When Rumplestiltskin did not reply, Cora floated towards him, extending a hand regally. "I thank you for the congratulations," she purred.

He scowled, batting aside the hand she'd meant for him to kiss. "Oh, I'm not here to congratulate you, dearie," her former lover's smile was sharp. "But I am here to offer you a warning, for old time's sake."

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Indeed. Call it…a wedding gift." Rumplestiltskin danced around her, but Cora was all ears. If she had been able to somehow take a Seer's gifts, she would have, but for now she had to depend upon him. The Dark One continued: "That little stepdaughter of yours will lead to your downfall. The more you try to corrupt her, the more pure she will become." Another giggle. "As pure as driven snow!"

"Is that all?" she replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't he have told her something useful? Cora shrugged dismissively. "I already have plans for Snow. By the time I am through with her, her heart will be as black as coal, and _my _daughter will be raised above her. Snow White is nothing."

"If you say so," he sang cryptically.

"I do."

"Then enjoy your life, _Your Majesty_, and reap what you sow," Rumplestiltskin retorted, offering her another hard-edged smile before disappearing.

Cora did not miss him. She did not let her eyes linger on the spot in which he'd last stood, and she did not _feel _anything for the imp she had once loved. She was queen now, and that was all that mattered. She could have the king Eva had stolen from her, ruin Eva's precious little daughter, and raise Regina up in Snow's place. Everything Cora had ever wanted to do was now possible, and she would not let anything stand in her way. Or anyone.

* * *

><p>Walking in the crisp November air was just enough to help clear her head. Emma had asked Regina if she knew anything about "the Twins" or thievery stemming from Fagin's Group Home, but Regina had only looked at her blankly. Henry, however, seemed to wait until they were away from his adopted parents before explaining:<p>

"They're a little older than me. Ava and Nicholas Zimmer. They're not mean or anything," he said. "Just orphans."

"I've been there, kid. It's no excuse."

"You weren't in a place like Fagin's, though," Henry pointed out. "It's pretty bad."

"So are a lot of group homes—"

"No, you don't get it," the boy cut her off. "The kids there don't have a choice. I think Mr. Tollak actually _is _Fagin, too, even if he doesn't know it. I mean, I know that _Oliver and Company _technically isn't a fairytale, but there are bits of it in my book, like how he takes in orphaned kids and then makes them steal for him. I think he's doing the same thing here."

_Really? Now we're bringing classic novels into this town? _Emma thought to herself. But maybe it counted because the classic Dickens novel—which she'd been forced to read in high school and hated because it hit far too close to home—had been made into a Disney cartoon. Either way, it was beyond weird. Even _if _Emma had to admit that there was definitely something fishy about Storybrooke, something otherworldly that just didn't fit in with the modern, normal, world she was used to, she still wasn't prepared to admit there was a curse that needed breaking. And she sure as hell wasn't about to absolve two juvenile thieves because some literary character 'made' them do it.

"Everyone has a choice, Henry," she told her son, feeling oddly parental. "Some of them are just harder than others."

"Not in Storybrooke," he replied solemnly, looking at her with big brown eyes full of faith. "The curse takes away choices and makes people worse than they are."

"You can't blame a curse for people's failings. That's excusing them for—"

"Miss Swan!" a new voice cut her off, cultured and slightly accented. Emma stopped and swung around to see a darker skinned man jogging towards her, dressed in cheap slacks and an ill-fitting dress shirt. His tie was askew and his eyes a little wild, but he had zeroed in on her like she was a target to be aimed at.

"Can I help you?" Emma asked cautiously. _Who is this, the town crazy?_

"Sidney Glass." He slid to a stop, panting, and then held out a hand. She shook it reluctantly. "I'm a reporter for the _Daily Mirror._"

"Nice to meet you," she replied slowly, snatching her hand back as soon as she could. If Glass was a reporter, he obviously wasn't a very successful one, at least judging by his clothes.

"Likewise." His smile seemed sincere, but Emma was still wary. In her experience, getting attention from reporters was never a good thing. "I've been trying to meet you for days. You're a breath of fresh air in this town, and—"

"What do you want?" Emma cut him off, unable to take any spiel where he tried to get in her good graces. She'd watched enough men do that over the years.

"I want to write an interest piece on you," Glass replied with refreshing frankness. "On your quest to become Storybrooke's Sheriff."

That made Emma blink. "Why?"

"Because it's high time we had someone incorruptible in that office," he answered earnestly. "Sheriff Graham was a good man, but everyone knew that Mayor Mills controlled him, even when he didn't want her to. She can't control you, and that's going to appeal to a lot of people. I want to be part of that."

"Really?" Henry butted in, and Glass smiled at the ten year old.

The reporter smiled, and Emma couldn't detect a lie in his response of: "Really. I think it's high time someone jerked Ms. Mills up short."

"That's so awesome," Henry gushed, glancing up at Emma. "You should let him! This will help you in your campaign!"

"It won't win you any points with the mayor," Emma warned Glass.

"I'm already her least favorite reporter. I've never toed the line she draws, and she's threatened to have my boss fire me several times," he said with a shrug. "Let me do this for you. I think I can really help."

Taking a deep breath, Emma decided to take a chance on this reporter. After all, Henry was right. This really _could _help her become sheriff, and she'd already sworn to herself that she was going to take Cora down a peg. Maybe Sidney could help her do just that. "Okay," she said slowly. "How do you want to do this?"

"Let's go to my office and start talking," he replied. "By the time I'm through with you, there's no one in Storybrooke who won't vote for you."

_That _bit of hyperbole made Emma snort, but at least Glass meant well. So, she and Henry went to visit Glass' little rathole of an office at the _Daily Mirror_, ignoring the hostile looks from his boss and settling in near his cubicle. Glass started off with simple questions, asking about her background, her experience in law enforcement, and just generally proving himself to be an honest reporter. He admitted that he was still looking for his 'hook', a tagline that made everything come together, but Emma supposed they had time. The election wasn't actually scheduled for another week and a half, and in a town like Storybrooke, that was eternity.

* * *

><p><span><em>6 Years Before the Curse<em>

The genie was the first man who had made her laugh since Daniel had been locked away. Were circumstances a little different, Regina might have even been able to fall in love with the genie who Leopold had freed from his bottle; he was sweet, funny, charming, and very obviously in love with her. But with her True Love still languishing in her mother's private dungeon—kept away from the palace, now, in a location that Cora kept hidden with magic—Regina could not afford love, so she hoped he would settle for friendship.

They were playing chess now, and Regina was laughing at some joke the genie had told. He really was quite brilliant, and _old_, too—though not in a stodgy way, just old enough that he'd been almost everywhere in the Enchanted Forest, and other worlds besides. It was wonderful to talk to someone who was so worldly, someone who didn't have Snow's innocence or her mother's cynicism. Sidney had been at the palace for over a month, now, and Regina enjoyed his company more every day. He was a breath of fresh air, someone to talk to with complaints she didn't want to burden her worried younger sister with. Poor Snow was growing more and more worried for her father, and as she grew older the princess was coming to understand how much danger she and Leopold were both in. Regina loved Snow dearly and would do everything she could to protect her, but sometimes it was nice to have someone else to smile with.

"Did she really live in a giant shoe?" Regina asked, smiling as she made her next move. Leopold had been kind enough to lend them his beautiful golden chess set, and the genie was winning.

"Of course she did!" he replied with a grin. "In fact, you should have seen—"

"Arrest him," her mother's flat voice interjected, and suddenly there were guards everywhere, grabbing the genie by his arms and hauling him roughly out of his chair. The genie yelped in surprise, struggling helplessly against the far larger and stronger men.

Regina shot to her feet. "Mother, what's going on?"

"You don't have to worry anymore, darling. You're safe." Cora didn't even bother to sound convincing as she moved to lay a hand on her daughter's arm; Regina detected triumph in her mother's voice, not concern. In fact, Cora smiled coldly as her guards, led by the heartless Huntsman, seized the genie and started to drag him away.

"I wasn't worried," she objected, yanking away from Cora. "We were just playing chess!"

"You cannot trust creatures such as this one," her mother replied. ""His goal has always been to seduce and dishonor you."

"My intentions are nothing but honorable!" the genie protested, only to have one of the guards hit him in the stomach to silence him. The poor genie doubled over, gulping painfully, until the guards hauled him upright once more.

"Mother!"

"Hush, Regina. We both know that you are particularly susceptible to dishonorable rogues who seek to use you," Cora said sternly, making Regina gape. The unveiled reference to the fictional story of how Daniel had 'kidnapped' her was enough to floor Regina, and she stared helplessly for a long moment before she found her voice.

"We're only friends!"

The genie looked a little crestfallen, but it was the truth. Her heart belonged to Daniel, and would as long as they both breathed. Besides, if such a truth could save the genie, Regina would use it liberally. Better his heart be broken than his life ruined, which she knew her mother was more than capable of doing. Cora, however, laughed at her defense.

"He is beneath you," she declared, and then gestured imperiously at the guards. "Take him away!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Huntsman replied with a strained bow that screamed how unhappy he was with the situation. Still, he gestured his guards to drag the genie away, which they promptly did, despite the way the genie shouted:

"I am innocent of all wrongdoing! I am—"

Another blow from a guard warped the words into a wheeze, and Regina winced. But there was nothing she could do. Even when she started to step forward, her mother grabbed her arm in a grip of iron and held her still. Cora's steely eyes watched her guards haul the genie off, and Regina never saw him again. She heard later that he had been executed, all for the crime of daring to fall in love with her, of daring to make her _laugh_. The genie had become a small ray of sunshine in her otherwise dark life, and that, apparently, Cora would not allow. Leopold, of course, did nothing to defend the friend he had made. He tried—Snow overheard him trying to convince Regina to let the genie go—but Cora overrode the King and had her way. As usual.

Years later, Regina found out that the Huntsman had saved the genie, braving Cora's wrath to release him from the prison that held him. Heartbroken, the genie attempted to reach Regina, only to be stopped by Cora herself. Desperate and proud, the genie promptly used the wish Leopold had given him, the wish he had been too proud to use to escape. So, he wished to always be there for the woman that he loved—but magic came at a price, and Cora was clever. Furious at having been thwarted, when she found that he had inadvertently wished himself into a nearby mirror, she cursed him to always _see _Regina without being seen, and eventually turned him into a miserable slave instead of the once-proud magical being he had been. The genie-turned-magic mirror would continually try to undermine her, but her enchantments held firm, forbidding him from betraying her…and forbidding him from ever contacting Regina.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Stay tuned for Chapter Sixteen—"The Unexpected", in which Henry tries to get Beauty and her Beast together, Emma tries to figure out what is going on with the Zimmer twins, and Emma gets a mysterious text pointing her at the asylum. Back in the past, Belle learns about the curse Rumplestiltskin has written. _


	16. Chapter 16: The Unexpected

_**Chapter Sixteen—"The Unexpected"**_

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to either Lacey French or Mr. Gold, young Henry Mills had done both of them a favor. Or, at least he <em>thought <em>he had, although he never would have expected the Beast to take over a week to actually call Beauty and let her know that a box of books ordered for the library had been accidentally delivered to the pawn shop. By which, of course, actually meant that _Henry _had taken it upon himself to redirect said box to the shop, making sure it was underneath another delivery so that Mr. Gold (or rather, Dove, who took care of all the packages) brought it inside without reading the address label. In fact, Henry had gone so far as to tear the label so that it wasn't immediately evident where the box belonged; only after opening it and seeing the invoice inside would Gold realize that the box was not intended for him, and then he would have to talk to Miss French.

What Henry did _not _know, of course, was that Gold had watched him execute the entire setup, and that he had let it happen. Rumplestiltskin could admire a budding young manipulator, after all, and he wanted to do nothing to endanger Henry's belief in the curse. He had not anticipated that the Savior would have a child, nor that said child would be so intimately involved in making her _believe _(though he'd had an inkling or two that the swan princess would prove difficult). Despite that, Rumplestiltskin was more than happy see young Mr. Nolan trying to get things moving in the right direction. That was why he hadn't just sent Dove over to the library with the box once he'd discovered it; the clever lad was watching, and it wouldn't do to shatter his beliefs right when Emma needed them most.

Unfortunately, that still left him with a box full of books that belonged in the library, which meant he had to call the librarian. If Henry assumed it was the curse keeping them apart, that was well and good, but Rumplestiltskin knew differently. He had managed to stay away from Lacey—from Belle—for two weeks, ever since that mess with Princess Ella's child. The words she'd said then stung all the more because he deserved them, but he was trying like hell to keep her and Gabrielle (_Renee! She is not your daughter here, or at least not that either of them knows.)_ safe. But it still burned…and now he needed to break his self-imposed drought.

One never knew what it took to keep the Savior on track, and if letting her boy think that he was picking the curse apart bit by bit was what it took, Rumplestiltskin would do that. So, he picked up the phone and dialed the library number, not allowing himself to call the cell phone number even Gold had known by heart.

"Storybrooke Library, how may I help you?"

Just hearing her voice was almost enough to take his breath away; his heart hammered against his rib cage, and for a moment, even the dark voice of his curse was silent, drowned out by a power even it could not withstand. Several seconds passed before Rumplestiltskin could find his voice, could remind himself that this was Lacey on the other hand and he had to do the right thing.

"Hello?" she asked when he did not speak, and Rumplestiltskin coughed to make his voice work.

"It seems that a box for the library was delivered to my shop," he said without bothering with any sort of greeting. "Will it trouble you too much to pick it up?"

"Hello to you, too," Lacey retorted with all of Belle's old fire. Hearing her so feisty—where Lacey was usually quiet and sometimes downright shy—made Rumplestiltskin swallow. Time really was moving, and people were trying to become their old selves again, whether they knew it or not.

"I…" he started, but then chickened out, not knowing what to say.

"Never mind. I'll pick the box up," she cut in. "Will you be there for the next while?"

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin said quietly. "Yes, I will."

"Good. And don't decide to be a jerk and just leave." _Click_.

He deserved this. He really did. Rumplestiltskin had done this to himself, and now he was paying the price—but _any _price was worth paying if it kept Belle and Gabrielle away from Cora. Until he could kill her. Once the curse was broken, once her caveats no longer applied, Rumplestiltskin would be free to remove that threat to his family, and free to beg Belle to forgive him. He hoped she would understand—they had discussed the separation, had decided it was for the best while they were cursed—but there was no guarantee that she would. Belle wouldn't be happy that he had delayed in waking her up (or didn't plan to, not now, because then he wouldn't be able to stay away from her), but Rumplestiltskin hoped she could forgive him.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if she didn't.

* * *

><p>Number 43, Dunfell Road.<p>

Emma stood in front of the rundown house, staring at its peeling paint, damaged roof, and unkempt lawn with a frown on her face. Yes, this certainly was the place that Mary Margaret had been told to deliver the money—cash only, and now $1,200 because of Emma's foolishness in going to talk to Keith about the theft. She felt horrible for that one, particularly because Mary Margaret had warned her, so Emma had pulled the cash out of her own bank account and refused to let her roommate pay for her mistake. She also hadn't told Mary Margaret what she planned on doing, because, well, she was pretty sure that Mary Margaret wouldn't approve. Mary Margaret was a good person, but she picked odd moments to be timid, and right now she was frightened. So, Emma would do this on her own.

It had been a chance comment of Henry's that brought Emma to an interesting conclusion, and she really did think she was crazy for deciding upon this course of action. But Henry insisted that Nicholas and Ava Zimmer were the Woodcutter's kids, and that the Woodcutter _wasn't _dead. The Book claimed that their father had been imprisoned by the Evil Queen for having given Snow White shelter while she was on the run, after which she had turned the twins—Hansel and Gretel, naturally—over to the Blind Witch for a snack. The pair had escaped, but their father had not, and when the curse had been cast, he had still been the Evil Queen's prisoner. Emma didn't exactly believe that the Zimmer kids were Hansel and Gretel, but she _had _been starting to wonder if Henry's Book was at least partially factual. Maybe it just used fairytales to tell the actual stories of people in Storybrooke. That was the most logical conclusion she had come to, and even it made a certain amount of twisted sense.

Stepping forward, she placed the cash-filled envelop in the mailbox and closed it once more. Then, Emma made a show of walking away and getting in her car. She even drove the bug a short distance, hanging a left down the next road before stopping and turning the car off. Getting out and closing the door quietly enough so that the sound didn't carry, Emma sprinted between two houses on Dunavon Place, dashing across three lawns, and ducking behind a tree. From there, she could see the mailbox, and Emma didn't have to wait long at all. Within five minutes, a pair of children came out of the abandoned house and casually checked the mail box as if it was something they did every day. The girl—Ava, Emma recalled—reached in and removed the envelope, and then the pair wandered back into the house.

Emma followed them.

Soon enough, she'd discovered that the top floors of the house really were empty, but there was a faint light shining up from the basement. Quietly, Emma crept down the stairs—the kids hadn't bothered to close the door—and found the twins seated near a battery-powered light amidst a collection of battered furniture that had obviously been scrounged up from several somewheres. They were already busy counting the money, but they didn't look happy. Instead, the twins looked very nervous.

"Count it again," Ava told her brother. If we give Mr. Tollak the wrong amount, he'll take it out on us."

"He does that, anyway," Nicholas pointed out glumly, staring longingly at the stack of cash. "I just want to buy some candy. Can't we take a little?"

"Well, we can't. You know that."

"How about I buy some for you, instead?" Emma said to enter the conversation. Both children jumped, turning to stare at her with wide and frightened eyes.

"You can't be here!" Nicholas yelped as Ava hurriedly swept the cash into a bag.

"If you can, I can," Emma replied casually. "No one owns this place, right?"

"Mr. Toll—"

"Quiet!" Ava cut her twin off, and he glared. She looked at Emma, hostility and mistrust plain in her expression. "What do you want?"

"To help you," she answered honestly, sitting down on the second stair from the bottom. Emma wasn't sure what she could do for these kids, but she knew what it was like to be in their position, hopeless and alone and out of choices. Despite what Henry thought, Emma had been in more than a few shady group homes. Oh, she'd never lived in one that used her as a thief—she'd learned that skill on her own, and from Neal—but she'd been on the bad end of just about everything else. At least the Zimmers were still together, but Emma knew that wasn't enough.

"Why would you want to do that?" the young girl asked suspiciously.

"Because I've been in your shoes," she said bluntly. "I bounced around between fifteen or so foster homes and group homes until I ran away when I was sixteen. So, I know how it is."

"No one goes to foster homes here," Nicholas said glumly.

"No one?" Emma echoed in surprise. Storybrooke was a small town, but it wasn't _that _small, and it also wasn't that far from other towns. There had to be homes willing to take kids in, didn't there?

"No one ever leaves Fagin's," Ava confirmed. "Once you're in, you're stuck."

"That doesn't sound nice."

Ava's expression darkened. "It isn't."

* * *

><p>Lacey arrived just as Rumplestiltskin was slipping his spare cell phone—the one with the untraceable number—out of the safe at the back of the shop. He'd half hoped that she wouldn't show up, because then he could just send Dove over to the library with the box with a clear conscience…but he also burned to see her. Too long had passed since the debacle with Ashley's baby, and he missed her so much. <em>But I got the favor I needed, the one that will help me find Bae,<em> he told himself. _And I kept Belle and Gabi safe. That's what matters. _That was his mantra. So long as he could keep his family safe, Rumplestiltskin viewed _any _price as worth paying.

Closing the door behind herself as the little bell jingled, Lacey took several steps into the shop and then stopped. She just stood there, staring at him as Rumplestiltskin stared at her. Her eyes were wide and uncertain, hopeful and cautious all at the same time, but seeing her was like coming home. His breath felt short, and his chest was suddenly tight. Belle was so beautiful.

Finally, however, he could take the awkward and painful silence no longer. "The box is right here," he managed, stuttering a little. "I didn't know until I opened it—the label was damaged, and, uh…"

"You could apologize," Lacey said when he trailed off. Rumplestiltskin blinked.

He'd told himself he wouldn't. Told himself that he had to stay away from her, and yet here he was, wanting to grovel at her feet and make everything right. He _loved _her, even when she was Lacey, because Gold had loved Lacey, too, and there was still a bit of Gold inside him and probably always would be. This woman, no matter what form she took, was his True Love. His _wife_. And he missed her and their daughter more than he had ever thought possible. _I have to keep them safe,_ he told himself yet again, digging into the darkest parts of his soul to find enough strength to do what he had to.

"For what?" he asked, hating it when his voice broke.

"Don't jerk me around, Gold," she snapped. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Rumplestiltskin had to look away. There was dust on the counter; he'd have to see to fixing that. _Dust. How ironic. _The curse had given Gold and Lacey a backstory similar to their actual lives; Lacey had come to work for Gold when she hadn't been able to make ends meet, desperate to earn extra money to pay Renee's medical bills. And then they had fallen for one another, despite Gold's toxic and unwanted relationship with Cora. They'd kept their relationship secret to keep Lacey safe, but Gold and Lacey had still been in love.

"Well?" Somehow, there was no blame in her voice. Only hope.

Hope that he could not bear to crush.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I should not have said what I did. I was just…I was just _trying _to scare you away. I need you to be safe, and I'm not safe to be around. Particularly now."

"I'm sorry, too," Lacey replied, all too quickly. "I shouldn't have called you a coward."

"I am one. Always have been," Rumplestiltskin replied automatically, and only then realized he was moving, limping around the counter and meeting her halfway. Somehow, despite his best intentions, Lacey wound up in his arms, and that was one of the best feelings in the world.

"Don't say that." Brilliant blue eyes looked up at him, and their lips started moving together without either voicing the desire to kiss. Rumplestiltskin barely stopped himself in time, shaking his head and watching heartbreak flash across Lacey's face.

"Sweetheart, if I kiss you now, I will never let you leave," he said honestly, reaching up to brush his fingers gently across her cheek. Lacey leaned into his touch, and just having her here, having her so close, made him want Belle so terribly that the next words almost stuck in his throat. "It's not safe for us to be together. Not right now. But soon, I promise things will change."

"Just leave her," Lacey begged. "Please. She's terrible to you, and I _know _she hurts you. Please, Gold."

"I wish I could."

"You can! It's not that hard—unless she has something on you? Something you can't resist?" She had Belle's smarts, and although Lacey was probably thinking that Cora was blackmailing Gold, she wasn't far from the truth at all.

"Something like that," Rumplestiltskin replied as neutrally as he could.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in response, and now it was her turn to reach up and brush hair out of his face. "Tell me it won't be for long, even if you have to lie to me. Renee misses you, too."

"It won't be," he promised. _I'll make sure it isn't. And when the curse breaks, I'll rip Cora apart with my bare hands if I must, and then we'll both be free._ The vindictive voice of his curse fully agreed with that last thought, quieter though it always was around Belle.

"I have to leave, don't I?" Lacey asked, and Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, struggling to keep control of himself.

"Yes," he managed to say tightly. "Or I won't be able to let you."

Her laugh was watery. "That wouldn't be so bad. I could do with being your prisoner."

Rumplestiltskin only managed a snort at that one. _You have no idea that you already have been, _he wanted to tell her, but didn't. Instead, he kissed the top of her head—burning to kiss more—and forced himself to release Lacey and step back. "Go on," he whispered.

Lacey nodded jerkily, grabbed the box off of the counter, and left the shop, but not before casting one last glance over her shoulder. He tried to force a smile for her, the words 'I love you' struggling to make it past his self-control. But Gold had never said that to Lacey, and Rumplestiltskin could not risk doing so now. He had no idea if the mere words would be powerful enough to make use of his second safety valve, only that he couldn't risk waking Belle up. Not yet. Not until he knew he could keep her and Gabi safe. Instead, he watched her leave, wondering all the while how he had managed to deserve the love of such an amazing woman.

Twice.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 years, 1 month Before the Curse<em>

"I'm sorry."

The beautiful voice startled him; Rumplestiltskin had been hunched over his workbench, completely focused on creating a useless but complicated little elixir designed to combat a plague that rarely broke out in the Enchanted Forest. His entire attention had been absorbed by stirring the potion _just so_—it required forty-six stirs, not a single stir more or less, lest the elixir be completely ruined—but the moment Belle spoke, he abandoned the potion entirely and jerked upright. Wide eyed, he stared at her, blinking rapidly to reassure himself that she really _was _there. After all, he hadn't expected her to come back. Not this time.

Belle had only been back at the Dark Castle for a little over a month. The Sheriff of Nottingham had departed only a week earlier, and Rumplestiltskin had foolishly allowed himself to start _trusting _this clever woman he was in love with. Because of that, he had foolishly told her the truth about his plans. But he'd been feeling so damn _satisfied _with himself, with the way he'd been bringing things back on track. Cora's actions were far harder to predict than Regina's would have been—she was far more calculating and embraced the Evil Queen role much more willingly—so it took a lot of extra work to make sure that people connected the way they should. Rumplestiltskin had just finished ensuring that a certain runaway princess would meet a certain werewolf. Had things worked out differently, they would have spent at least a year on the run together, but things did not. Yet it was imperative that they become friends, so he manufactured a reason for Snow and her Prince Charming to visit a certain village, and then cleverly separated them just before the full moon, leaving Snow to meet Red.

That success had now soured, however, because it had led him to tell Belle about the curse.

Of course, she had asked why he wanted to build a friendship between a runaway princess and a peasant girl, and a vague explanation about how that might eventually matter was hardly enough to fool her. So, he'd stupidly explained that Red would later help save Snow's prince from the Evil Queen, and that the werewolf would be integral in the rebellion those two would later lead. But Belle had asked too many clever questions, and soon enough, Rumplestiltskin had found himself admitting that his ultimate goal was to facilitate a curse that would rip them all out of the Enchanted Forest and deposit them, sans memories and personalities, in the Land Without Magic.

Belle had asked him to stop. Told him that he could not possibly allow such a horrible thing to happen, that he was a better man than that and she couldn't believe he'd be a part of this—and then Rumplestiltskin had, rather stupidly, admitted that he'd written said curse, and that it was almost finished. Horrified, she had stormed out, and Rumplestiltskin had never expected to see her again. He had tried to tell her that it was the only way to find his son, the one he'd told her about a month earlier, when he'd finally shared the story he had promised her if she came back. But that hadn't seemed to matter. Belle had still left, stalking out before he had a chance to finish his first sentence.

Blinking did not make this apparition vanish, however, so he rose woodenly from his work bench to face her.

"I'm sorry," Belle repeated. "I shouldn't have walked out like that when you were trying to explain."

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. "I didn't think you wanted to see me again," he admitted quietly.

"I didn't," she replied. "I was angry. And…horrified. But you said that you were trying to find your son, and I didn't give you much of a chance, so I thought I should listen before judging."

"I thought you'd left."

Belle shook her head. "I just went for a walk."

"Oh." Pain welled up inside him. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure how to deal with this; he was certain that she _would _leave if he finished telling her the truth, but he'd told her too much to manage a clever lie, now. He'd always known that Belle would leave him eventually, though. Everyone he'd ever loved had left in one way or another; he was good at being abandoned. Besides, he knew that his curse made him more difficult than not, and that being what he was now, he _deserved _to be left. He almost would have rathered that she not come back at all, not if she was just going to turn around and leave again.

Tentatively, Belle stepped forward, putting a hand on his left arm. Rumplestiltskin jumped, but she gave him an apologetic smile. "Why do you need this curse?"

He looked away. He didn't want to talk about this, not if it was going to get his heart broken. "Because it's the only way to cross realms, the only path to the Land Without Magic," Rumplestiltskin admitted in a whisper, wishing he could make her understand but knowing he couldn't. His head snapped around to look at Belle, his voice turning fierce. "I can't leave him there. _I won't._"

"Isn't there some other way? Anything?"

"Don't you think I've spent the last _three_ _centuries_ trying every other way? Even the Blue Fairy says that only a curse will do it," he spat. "If there was another way, I would have done it by now, and Bae wouldn't be stuck there."

_Kill her! _his curse demanded. _She endangers your plans, endangers _you!_ Get rid of her now before she can ruin everything._ Fighting back that urge sent a vicious tremor through Rumplestiltskin; his rage was only building and building, because it had been _so long _since he'd lost his son and he was _so close._ He couldn't let Belle ruin that. He couldn't. Even if he loved her.

"Must it be so terrible, though?" she questioned quietly, her hand still on his arm and her presence somehow soothing out the dark whispers of magic in his mind. "Must everyone suffer so much?"

"All magic comes at a price," he responded automatically, shrugging. "There's not...they won't _have _to be miserable, but they can't remember who they are. All of our memories are part of the price, and if they were not taken, the curse might not ever be broken. And the curse _will_ be broken."

"It will?" Belle echoed, sounding hopeful.

"Oh, yes. I'll make certain of that."

Belle looked thoughtful. "You said time will freeze, too? That no one will lose actual years with their family, even if they are separated by the curse? No one will age, and no one will change? They'll just walk around in a daze, not knowing the truth."

"It's the most mercy I can offer," Rumplestiltskin answered honestly enough. He didn't have much of a conscience left, but he knew Cora. Cora would make everyone miserable because _she _had once been miserable, and she felt she was entitled to take her rage and her pain out on the world. But he could have a little revenge on her by making her vengeance not as sweet as she expected, by boring the Evil Queen while he gave her the very gift she thought she wanted. In the end, that would mean Cora became almost eager for the changes the savior would bring with her, and Rumplestiltskin wanted that. He wanted Cora to relish the challenge of defeating Eva's granddaughter, not trying to eliminate her right off the bat. _And then the little Savior will defeat her, and I will find Bae._

Come to think of it, that was something he should add to the curse. Killing the Savior would break the Dark Curse immediately. That should keep Cora in line a little.

"Then how can I help?" Belle asked, and he almost didn't register the words. Rumplestiltskin could only stare.

"What?"

"How can I help?" she repeated. "If this is the only way for you to find your son, I want to help you find him." When he continued to stare at her stupidly, she squeezed his arm and smiled. "I love you, Rumplestiltskin. Why did you think I wouldn't want to help?"

"No one ever does," he admitted in a whisper, and suddenly Belle's arms were around him.

"Well, I will," she declared, and for a long, blissful moment, the voice of his curse was silent in his mind. All he could feel was love for this amazing woman who had given her beautiful heart to such an ugly man.

"You should go," Rumplestiltskin managed to tell her, not wanting to but loving her too much to chain her to him.

"_What?_"

"You _should _leave," he said with the last of his courage. "Despite what you hope…I am still a monster."

Belle drew back to smile at him. "Don't you see? That's exactly the reason I have to stay."

* * *

><p>Somehow, Emma managed to convince the twins to meet her in person to return the chess set. Usually, they dropped 'acquired' items off in a third location and then left another note saying where they were, but she talked them into meeting at Granny's instead. The promise of a nice meal—and dessert—seemed enough to win them over, particularly once she invited Henry along. That, and Emma made no move to take the $1,200 back from the twins, which she knew would send them running. They were scared of Tollak, and the last thing she wanted to do was endanger them. Emma hadn't met the man who ran Fagin's, but judging from what the twins <em>didn't <em>say, he wasn't the type who she wanted to make the kids cross. Instead, the four of them sat down in a corner booth, with the chess set stuffed into a cardboard box that Emma stuck between her and Henry on the vinyl bench seat.

Burgers and fries seemed to be the way to the Zimmer twins hearts, and Emma watched in amazement as Henry slowly drew the pair out of their shells. They were a little older than him, which meant Henry didn't know either all that well, but they seemed clever enough once they started talking. The most interesting story, however, came out when Henry asked what had happened to their parents.

"You're lucky you got adopted," Ava told him bluntly. "We were already too old for anyone to want us when our dad got taken away."

"Taken?" Leave it to Henry to jump on that right away, and Emma tried to throw him a look, but he ignored her.

"Taken, arrested, whatever. They said he stole from the mayor," Ava clarified with a bitter shrug.

Nicholas, however, looked up from his burger with a fierce look on his face. "He didn't! Dad told us everything. We would have known."

"Parents don't always tell their kids about things they aren't proud of," Emma said quietly, feeling for the twins. It was one thing to have been abandoned at birth. It was another to have your beloved parent taken away because they'd done something stupid. _And that's why I gave Henry up. Because I couldn't be sure I'd be able to keep him and give him the life he deserves, _she thought a little sadly. But Emma refused to think about what might have been. Henry had a good life, and at least he wasn't stuck in a group home like the twins, or like she'd been so often.

"But he was at home with us when they said he stole something," Nicholas protested.

Henry frowned. "Didn't he say that in the trial?"

"What trial?" Ava scowled harder. "There wasn't one. They just took us off to Fagin's and told us we'd never see him again."

"Who took you?" Emma asked curiously. The story rang true, as did the twins' obvious pain. But if they weren't lying, what _was _going on?

"The guy who's going to be sheriff," Nicholas grumbled.

"Believe me, kid, that's not happening if I can help it," Emma promised, making a mental note to look into Michael Tillman's disappearance. The lack of a trial sent up all kinds of red flags, and Emma couldn't quite believe that his kids would know nothing about what had happened.

Still, she had no choice but to send the twins back to Fagin's Group Home in the meantime. As much as Emma wanted to give them something better, she was in no position to do so. They were orphans, technically, and Storybrooke's law said they belonged in the group home unless someone adopted them. She did not, however, have to put up with it when the mayor—who happened to be walking by as Henry bid farewell to the twins—cooed:

"Slumming again, Miss Swan? Somehow, I doubt that buying rebellious orphans lunch will get you any votes." Cora smiled, but there were daggers in her eyes.

Emma, however, had been pushed far enough that day. "I suppose being a decent person never really occurred to you, did it, Madam Mayor?" she shot back.

"_Decent _people should not have to associate with lowborn trash," was the immediate answer, and Emma gaped.

"Is that what you think children are? If so, I feel damn sorry for Regina."

Somehow, that blow seemed to land, and Cora's smile vanished. "My daughter is _my _concern, Miss Swan. As is my town," she hissed. "And you will find that I am more than capable of maintaining control of both. The election is in one week. I hope that you're ready."

"More than ready," she snapped.

"We shall see." Cora smiled again and then walked away. Only then did Emma notice the buzzing coming from her back pocket. Curious, she pulled out her cell phone, only to discover that she had a text from a restricted number.

_People disappear in Storybrooke, _it read, and Emma frowned. "That's really not helpful," she muttered, but then the phone buzzed again and a second text appeared.

_Look for them under the hospital._

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AN:**__Pieces are starting to slide into place, and the curse is definitely weakening. Who do you think sent that text to Emma? Do let me know what you think – feedback makes my day!_

_Stay tuned for Chapter Seventeen—"Victory is Sweet", where Cora confronts Gold about Lacey; Emma, Henry, and Regina dig for information on disappearing people; and Hook offers to help Emma. Back in the past, Cora confronts Snow after Leopold's death _


	17. Chapter 17: Victory is Sweet

_**Warning: **Non-graphic references to Non-Con in this chapter._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Seventeen—"Victory is Sweet"<strong>_

* * *

><p>"I saw that little doxy of yours in here yesterday," Cora purred, gliding across the floor of his shop to stand in front of Rumplestiltskin. Fortunately, the counter separated them, but her presence was still enough to send shivers down his spine.<p>

"That little what of mine?" he replied dismissively, hiding his sudden surge of panic behind a raised eyebrow and a sarcastically attentive expression.

"What _do _you see in that Lacey girl, darling?" his onetime lover wondered, reaching out to straighten his tie. Rumplestiltskin yanked back, and she let him, smiling that damned victorious smile of hers.

"She's not you."

At least that was honest enough, although there were a thousand other things Rumplestiltskin saw in Belle, ones Cora would never understand. But in the beginning, the fact that Lacey _wasn't _Cora was what had made Gold turn to her. He'd been damaged and lonely and so strung out thanks to Cora's _attentions _that he'd needed someone, and Lacey had been there. Lacey had been kind, gentle, and intelligent. He'd been drawn to her, and she to him—_True Love always wins out_—and slowly, even under the curse, they had fallen in love. But he certainly wasn't going to tell Cora that. Whatever Cora knew about Lacey, even though it was clearly more than Gold or Rumplestiltskin had ever wanted her to know, was nowhere near the truth. Thankfully.

Cora laughed. "Do I disturb you that much?"

"I just don't like you, dear," Rumplestiltskin replied nastily, smiling back at her to mask his discomfort. Oh, Cora knew that she _disturbed _him. She was no fool, and knew that she'd taken Gold far too close to the edge too many times. He didn't enjoy her fetishes, didn't like being hurt, and Cora probably wouldn't have indulged the former or done the latter if he did. She knew that he hated what she did to him, and she reveled in that. Power was power for Cora, and she loved every bit of it.

"Of course you don't," she purred, stepping around the counter and closing the distance between them. The coward in Rumplestiltskin wanted to back away from her—the memories of pain and violation at her hands were too fresh—but he refused to give in that much. Cora stopped right in front of him, her smile never wavering. "But what _is _it that you see in her?"

Damn. He had hoped that he could distract Cora away from that line of questioning.

"I already told you," Rumplestiltskin replied flippantly. "She's not you."

"Surely you're more discriminating than that, or you'd be with half the women in town," was the cool response. Slowly, her right hand came up, starting by fooling with his tie but slipping inside his jacket after a few seconds. Rumplestiltskin shivered, his grip on his cane tightening as he struggled with the rage and fear both ripping through him. "Why her?"

"She's a pretty thing," he said as if it didn't matter, reaching up with his left hand to push Cora's hand away.

"Let me touch you," Cora countered as soon as his fingers touched her wrist. "_Now._"

Magic sizzled through him, and Rumplestiltskin raged impotently against its hold, a grimace crossing his face and air escaping in a hiss from between suddenly clenched teeth. But he couldn't fight her hold; he'd written the curse too damn well and Cora had cast it too expertly. Was it time to use a please? No. He'd have to reserve those to protect Belle and Gabrielle if it came to that, not to protect himself. His family was more important. He might have been a coward, but even he could be that brave.

Snarling softly, he let his hand drop, feeling his knuckles go white as he gripped his cane even harder and his curse frothed madly in his mind. Unable to pull away—Cora had chosen her command well—he glared at his tormenter.

"Is that all?" she asked when he said nothing.

_Kill her and take control of the curse! _his own curse raged, but that would not do. Oh, he _could_ assume control of the Dark Curse by killing its caster, but that would ruin some of his long term plans. Rumplestiltskin shrugged as casually as he could with Cora's other hand moving up to join the first, unbuttoning his jacket and vest. "Does there need to be more?"

"There usually is, with you," she replied, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to curse himself for a fool. Gold was simpler than Rumplestiltskin, but he still was a complicated and difficult man, and Cora knew that.

Cora's hand moved downwards, starting to unbuckle his belt, and Rumplestiltskin finally managed a step back, his body going rigid with tension. But she moved with him, pressing forward until his back was against the wall and her body so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. He shuddered, trying to keep up his hostile glare, but finding it hard. Was she really doing this now? _Here?_ He had always known that Cora would grow more controlling as the curse slowly slipped through her fingers, but somehow Rumplestiltskin had never foreseen this.

"Stand still, now," she whispered, finishing with his belt as her other hand reached up to play with his hair. Rumplestiltskin looked away, and she continued: "Well? Is it just because she is pretty and willing, and doesn't…_challenge_ you?"

"Something like that," he replied uncomfortably, his chest tight. The curse anchored him in place; even though Rumplestiltskin wanted to flee, now he couldn't, and he could feel its power wrapping around him. Cora still had too much control, and he couldn't fight her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Damn this curse he had created!

"Well, she's certainly willing enough," Cora chuckled softly, her hand slipping inside his pants. Rumplestiltskin squirmed, but the curse held him still, threads of magic enveloping him and forcing him to submit. Her fingers played over him, nails scraping not-quite-gently as he hissed uncomfortably. "As evidenced by that little bastard of hers."

Fury flared; Rumplestiltskin saw red. He barely had time to stop himself from saying something vehemently defensive of his daughter, but he managed. Instead, he clothed his anger in his present situation, snarling: "Get your hands off me."

"You didn't ask nicely," she cooed, and although Cora was being sarcastic, Rumplestiltskin sensed the opportunity right before she leaned in to kiss him.

He jerked back, turning his head away even as her lips brushed against his. Cora had said nothing about a kiss, and he wasn't feeling cooperative. Her curse-enforced commands could not hold him on that, and so he exploited that loophole even as he responded to her comment. "Is that supposed to matter?" he demanded because Gold would have. Gold would not have known how effective the next words would be, but he did: "_Please_ get your hands off of me."

"Of course." Cora managed not to look like there was magic forcing her to comply; her playful smile stayed firmly in place, but Rumplestiltskin knew the difference. He could feel it. "See what happens when you're polite? You get things that you want."

"I doubt that," he snapped back, resisting the urge to say more.

Cora laughed, stepping away. "You never know."

Rumplestiltskin only snorted, not even waiting before he quickly re-buckled his belt, and then re-buttoned both his vest and his shirt. He never stopped glaring at her, and Cora never stopped smiling, although she did turn for the door, drifting out of the shop like she had chosen to stop instead of inadvertently inviting him to foil her. She was clever; Rumplestiltskin had to give her that. She always had been.

"I'll see you tonight, dear," she smiled, and then left Rumplestiltskin alone in the shop with only his sick despair for company.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

If only Eva could see her darling daughter now.

Cora smiled to herself as she walked through the dungeons, her daughter's pleas still echoing in her ears. Regina would eventually learn that her childish attachment to Snow was misplaced; Cora would teach her that. Unfortunately, that attachment had been useful when Leopold was alive because he hadn't been _fully _under Cora's control (the necessity of leaving his heart in his chest had been irksome, but one could not feel even fake love without a heart) and had liked to see his stepdaughter and daughter close, which had led to him favoring Regina. So, she could put up with the foolishness for now, provided Regina proved more malleable in the future. She would mourn her "little sister" for some time, but then Cora would begin the process of shaping Regina into the queen she knew she could be.

First, Snow White. The irritatingly _good _offspring of a conniving bitch and a fool, and now Cora's toy to play with. Her insipid little stepdaughter was due to die in three days, and Cora wanted her to feel every second of fear leading up to that moment. She would be executed in private, of course, as was befitting a princess, but key members of the court would be there. Cora could already imagine Snow's tearful pleas and terror, and she couldn't _wait _to see that moment. Eva might have turned Leopold on her all those years ago, but now Cora had won everything. She had poisoned Eva, and she would execute her beloved daughter, too.

"Hello, dear," she said with a smile, waving the cell door open. The guards she dismissed; Cora was queen, and a sorceress besides. Snow certainly wasn't going to escape _her_.

"Cora." Snow's voice was surprisingly steady, and although she looked like she might have been crying earlier, now she gazed at her stepmother with serenity Cora had not expected.

"Is that any way to greet someone who comes bearing a gift?" Cora asked lightly, summoning Snow's too-pure heart into her right hand. It beat softly, and then harder and harder with delicious fear.

The girl's eyes snapped to the glowing heart; they always did. But then she said something unexpected: "Why don't you just kill me now? Crush it and be done with everything."

"Now why would I do that?" Cora laughed.

"You've won. Isn't that enough?" Snow demanded, and now the serenity vanished. She looked broken again, and Cora drank in her despair. It was one of the most beautiful things Cora had ever seen. It was _victory_, the miller's daughter beating out the pampered princess once and for all.

"It will never be enough," she answered honestly, stepping forward and shoving the heart back in Snow's chest.

Her expression was more priceless than most. Snow's mouth opened in a shocked 'o', and a pitiful little noise of pain squeaked out of her as she staggered, emotions and fears hitting her all at once. The princess rocked back on her heels, almost falling until she caught herself on the cold stone wall, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Cora knew from experience that it was _so _much easier to deal with heartbreak when you did not have your heart, and she reveled in watching Snow's self-control fail before her eyes. This was the very least the girl deserved. She wasn't only Eva's daughter, after all. Snow was the girl who tried to get between _Cora's _daughter and her future, who had tried to steal away the prince Cora meant for Regina.

"Why are you doing this?" Snow whispered. "What did I ever do to _you_?"

"You existed." Cora shrugged. "You've taken the place that should belong to my daughter, just as your mother took the place that should have been mine."

Never mind how Snow had replaced the daughter Cora had given up so many years ago. She had put Zelena—a name and face she now knew—in a basket and sent her away, and it had been Eva's fault. Cora would have kept her had Eva's spite not gotten in the way, and things would have been different. Still, Cora would not dwell on that, not now, although it did serve as another strike against Snow. If not for her mother, if not for little good Snow White, Cora would never have had to give her first child up, and none of this would have been necessary.

"Is this about James?" her stepdaughter asked incredulously. "It's not my fault that King George wanted to marry his son to the heir, not to Regina. And I—"

"And now he shall. Regina shall inherit _both_ kingdoms when I die, and she will marry the boy you fancy yourself in love with. Die with that in your heart," Cora retorted, smiling viciously. So what if Regina didn't love Prince James? Marriages were not made for love; they were made for power.

"You won't get away with this," Snow swore. "Regina's better than you. She won't be your tool."

_Such naiveté. _ Cora just chuckled. "Of course she will, dear. She's my daughter."

She left without another word, locking the door securely behind herself and summoning the guards back to their posts. In three days, her victory would be complete, and Cora would shape the world exactly how she wished it to be.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe she did that," Emma grumbled as they poked through files in the Storybrooke Records Office. The files there were so unorganized that things were impossible to find unless you already knew where they were, and Emma was obviously ready to lose her mind after only a half an hour of searching. Of course, the fact that Regina had managed to convince Mr. Kay to take an early lunch didn't help either of them, but at least that kept him from reporting to Cora what they were looking for. Overall, Regina thought that was a necessary inconvenience, even if it did slow their search down.<p>

"Of course she did," Regina replied, rolling her eyes. "Francis Scadlock is mother's pet reporter. He runs the _Daily Mirror_, and never publishes a thing that she doesn't want him to."

"Those records were supposed to be sealed!" Emma objected, and Regina snorted.

"Yes, because no one has _ever _hacked into juvenile records before."

Emma frowned, but before she could argue—or complain more—Henry piped up: "It's not like you did something terrible. All you did was steal some watches, right?"

"That's not the point," Emma told their mutual son—although how he'd become _their _son somewhat baffled Regina. She was the one who had done the hard work raising Henry when Emma was too young and frightened to do so, and Henry was _her _son. But she had to admit that Emma had at least a little right to him, and the savior had never indicated that she wanted to take Henry away from Regina. Had she done that, it wouldn't have mattered whose daughter Emma was. Regina would have fought her tooth and nail and _never _helped her one bit. But she hadn't, which meant Regina could get along with her just fine. _Particularly when she reminds me of Snow._

"No, the point is that we're looking for something hidden under the hospital, and _not _buried treasure," she cut in dryly. "Can you two focus?"

"Sorry, Mom," Henry said immediately, and Regina spared her beloved boy a smile. She was still 'Mom' while Emma was just 'Emma', and Regina felt a rush of love every time she heard Henry call her that.

"There has to be _something_ here," Emma groused. "That text—"

"Could have been a prank," she pointed out. "I've never heard of anything being there, and I'm Mother's assistant."

"But you were under the curse—" Henry started, and Regina cut him off hurriedly. Emma still wasn't ready to hear all of that, and it would just make the Savior testy.

"Let's keep looking, then," she said briskly, shooting a warning glare at her son.

Henry just shrugged and did so. _He _thought Emma needed to be smacked in the face with the truth, but Regina had known Emma's parents well enough to know that would just make Emma stubborn. Her own approach was a little more subtle, not that subtlety had ever been her strong suit. Rumplestiltskin would be far more suited to manipulate the Savior, but _he _was still busy with her mother, a thought that just made Regina roll her eyes and open another drawer of files. This one was even less organized than the last, with most of the folders not even labeled. Sighing, she started digging through the folder in front, hoping to find _anything _about the construction of the library or some place where people who disappeared—and there were a _lot _of such people in Storybrooke—might be stored by an Evil Queen.

The first folder was useless, as were the six after that. But in the eighth, Regina found a set of blueprints. At first, she didn't think they were important, but then she caught sight of 'Storybrooke Asylum' typed down in the bottom right hand corner, and she yanked them out of the drawer.

"I think I found something!"

* * *

><p>"May I have a moment, Miss Swan?" an accented voice asked as Emma, Regina, and Henry strode out of Storybrooke Town Records.<p>

Emma turned, irritated at the interruption. For once she felt like she'd accomplished something_ useful_ for a change. Regina had found blueprints for an asylum buried underneath the hospital, of all places, and then Henry had stumbled upon additional information on the very same secret prison. They didn't know who was there or how to get in, but at least they knew the place existed—and that meant that Emma's anonymous benefactor had been right. Whoever had sent her that information certainly knew what they were talking about. _Too bad he or she didn't give me a number to call back. I'd like some more tidbits of information!_

"Uh, sure," she replied, glancing at Regina and Henry. "I'll catch up with you two later."

"Tomorrow," Regina replied immediately. "Henry's got homework to do."

"But Mom, this is so much more interesting!" the boy objected, pouting.

"But your math homework is even more important," she retorted, giving him a pointed look. Temperamental though she could sometimes be, Regina really was a good mother for Henry, so Emma backed her up.

"Don't you have a test tomorrow?" she asked.

Henry frowned. "Yes, but—"

"No buts," Regina cut him off, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

"Yep," she replied, turning back to the dark-haired marina owner. "So, what can I do for you, Killian?"

She'd only met the man once before, and then he'd rather inappropriately invited her out right after Graham's accident, right after Cora had fired her and actually had the nerve to file a restraining order to keep Emma away from her friend! At the moment, that meant she was relying on reports from Regina to keep abreast of Graham's condition, but that wasn't the same as being able to visit him. Emma wasn't sure if she had any powerful romantic feelings for the former sheriff, but she knew that she liked him, and that he was a damn good man. He deserved a lot better than what Cora had done, and all her memories of Cyril—'call me Killian'—O'Malley were wrapped up in her anger over that situation. It wasn't terribly fair, but Emma supposed her reaction was human enough.

"I wanted to offer you my help, actually," he replied, giving her a charming smile that probably made most women melt a little.

"And why would you want to do that?" Emma asked curiously.

"Because I liked—like—Graham," was the response. "He's a good man, and Keith Law isn't. Old fashioned though it sounds…this town deserves better."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You think that's me?"

"I don't know." Now his smile turned saucy and inviting. "But I'd like to find out."

_Ah, there it is. I was wondering how long he could go without flirting. _Emma knew O'Malley's type, after all. He was admittedly pretty to look at, or even gorgeous, with deep blue eyes and just a scruffy enough appearance to make a girl's knees weak. She'd been involved with men of this type a half dozen times, and usually enjoyed the liaisons while they lasted. He was exactly the wrong sort of guy, the type who broke hearts and moved onto the next woman without blinking an eye, but Emma ate those kinds of guys for breakfast.

"I bet you would," she retorted, waiting a beat before continuing: "Can we limit the flirting and keep this to business? You want to help, fine. Tell me how you're going to do that."

"Ah, straightforward, eh, love? I like that in a lass," he said with another grin. "I'm a respectable business owner. I have lots of friends and business contacts. People listen to me."

"And you'll get them to vote for me?" Emma wanted to hear that straight up, not just hints.

"Aye, I will," O'Malley confirmed.

Emma cocked her head, studying the marina owner for a moment. He seemed honest enough, and she didn't detect a lie, so she allowed herself to smile. "Okay, then. You pull that off, and I'll let you buy me that drink you promised."

After all, it didn't hurt to give the man an incentive. Emma didn't think it was dishonest to promise him a drink, and she'd probably even enjoy sharing one with him. O'Malley was certainly one of the best looking men in town, and _not _one that Henry thought was related to her. Even if Henry's book was utterly insanity, it was nice to know that her kid didn't think all of the potential love interests in this town were relatives of hers. Not that she was looking for love, because she wasn't. But there were worse ways to celebrate a potential victory than having a drink with a handsome and rich man.

* * *

><p>Poor Prince Eric—or Chef Christopher Anderson in this world—put the dessert dishes on the table without a word, backing away and waiting for direction from Cora. He was yet another well-trained and cowed royal, just the way she liked them here in Storybrooke. Rumplestiltskin found her continued persecution of the royals incredibly crass, but then, Cora had always been vindictive and vicious for all her outward display of good manners. Gold hadn't really cared who Cora used and abused, and in truth, Rumplestiltskin didn't much give a damn, either. Except in select cases, he supposed. Mostly, though, he just didn't care. Most of them had never done anything for him unless they wanted something in return, so whatever happened to those arrogant royals was on their own heads, distasteful though it was.<p>

"That will be all, Christopher," Cora said, waving an authoritative hand to dismiss him. "You can come back for the dishes in…oh, an hour or so."

Most expert chefs would have been insulted by the fact that they were expected to clean the dishes as well cook, but Anderson said nothing. He only nodded and retreated from the room, blissfully silent. Rumplestiltskin was, as Gold had always been, grateful for his discretion. Anderson had caught the two of them in…compromising positions more than once, many of which had consisted of Gold attempting to resist Cora. It never had worked out well for Gold, but Anderson never said a word. Apparently, Cora had indeed created herself the perfect servant with the curse, and Rumplestiltskin was willing to bet she was quite satisfied on the domestic front.

"Still feeling feisty, darling?" she purred, daintily eating the chocolate cake Anderson had served. Normally, Rumplestiltskin's sweet tooth would have demanded he devour such a delicious treat, but tonight he had no appetite. Being around Cora tended to do that to him, so he sat back and just watched her, not even bothering to hide his hostility.

"Define feisty," he snapped.

Cora smiled. "I can see what your answer is. What _has _gotten into you, lately?"

Alarms went off in his head; although the question had been asked casually, there was a dangerous glint in Cora's eyes. _Regina hasn't come by recently, _Rumplestiltskin realized abruptly. _She's been very cautious ever since the Huntsman's accident._ That could only mean one thing. Cora had somehow realized that Regina remembered, and that meant she could do the same where he was concerned. Of course, she wasn't nearly so good at bullying him as she had always been at bullying her daughter, but Rumplestiltskin still had to be careful. One misstep could endanger his family, because Cora still had enough power to harm them without worrying about repercussions.

"I suppose it never occurred to you that your antics in my shop might put me in a foul mood," he said with Gold's quiet ire and Gold's pointed glare.

"You're saying that _I _put you in such a foul mood?" Her expression was the picture of innocence, but he'd chosen the right angle. Cora enjoyed making Gold uncomfortable, which was why she'd acted like that in the shop, which had always been Gold's one place of safety.

"I'm a private man, Cora. Not an exhibitionist."

"Of course you aren't. But what's life without a little adventure?" Her smile wasn't playful, though; it was hungry and dangerous, and more than a little possessive. It was enough to send a chill down Rumplestiltskin's spine, and not in a good way. Gold had feared her, and if he wasn't careful, he was going to wind up fearing _Cora_, not just what she could do to him.

"I think we're going to have to disagree on that front," Rumplestiltskin replied drily. He had never been much of an adventurer, after all, and Gold hadn't, either. Both were content with going where the pursuit of their goals—or the pursuit of power—took them, and no further. And he _wasn't _into her kinks, either. "I'm not into your…habits, dear. You know that."

Cora rose gracefully, gesturing for him to do the same. "That's what makes it so much fun."

"For you, perhaps," he shot back, but rose, leaning on his cane. Some battles were worth fighting; others were not. He could not accidentally use a please tonight, not twice in one day. Not if he wanted Cora to think he was merely Gold. Tonight he would have to keep Rumplestiltskin under wraps, would have to endure whatever happened, much though that thought made him feel sick.

His stomach rolled in disgust and fear as Cora stepped close to him, but Rumplestiltskin forced himself to stand his ground. Besides, one of the distinctive problems with being in the Land Without Magic was how the old leg injury hampered his mobility, and Rumplestiltskin knew from vast personal experience that he'd go nowhere quickly nor gracefully. Better to let her close the distance than to make a clumsy fool out of himself trying to get away. This woman might have raped him time and again, might have forced humiliation upon humiliation upon him, but he still had at least a little pride left.

"Did you read that lovely article that Scadlock wrote about our interloping would-be sheriff?" Cora asked curiously as she reached up to untie his tie. It always annoyed him when she did that. Cora liked to use his expensive silk ties in ways they were not designed to be used, which meant they often wound up wrinkled and stretched. So he scowled at her freely.

"That piece of rubbish? Of course I did. Scadlock's a terrible writer," he said drolly. "Though I have to grant you that he's decent enough at ferreting out secrets. How _did _you convince him to dig up such things on Miss Swan?"

Cora preened, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to roll his eyes. Of course he knew how she'd convinced Francis Scadlock to do her bidding; the owner of the _Daily Mirror _had been Will Scarlet before the curse, sometime member of the Merry Men and later reluctantly in Cora's service. If Rumplestiltskin's memory served him correctly—and it usually did—Scarlet and his lady love had returned from Wonderland only to run afoul of the Evil Queen, who'd promptly taken his heart when he'd refused to do her some service or another. Although what Rumplestiltskin couldn't recall was what had happened to Ella's stepsister…Anastasia? Something like that. She should have been here in Storybrooke as one of Ashley Boyd's obnoxious stepsisters, but only the elder one seemed to be around. _Odd._ The girl was largely unremarkable, despite having almost become the Red Queen, but Rumplestiltskin had kept an eye on the pair because they shared True Love.

"Most men are easy enough to _persuade_ if you know where their buttons are," she replied smugly, her hands moving downwards to unbutton his jacket and vest. Rumplestiltskin didn't manage to hold back his grimace, but he _did _manage not to point out that possessing someone's heart made them oddly malleable to your desires. Cora already knew that, after all, and Gold certainly wasn't supposed to believe in magic.

Still, thinking about that was easier than coping with the way Cora insistently tugged his suit jacket and vest off, and Rumplestiltskin kept trying to distract himself—and her—with inane questions about the many ways she intended to block Emma from becoming sheriff. He learned a few useful things, and perhaps managed to delay the inevitable for a little while. Cora _did _like to have her formidable intelligence appreciated, after all, and she had no reason to suspect that Gold was rooting for the Savior. Gold had almost as much dirt on Keith Law as she did, and had no problems manipulating and/or bullying him. _Gold _would have been far more satisfied with Law filling Graham's shoes, but Rumplestiltskin was not Gold.

Even if he felt very much like his cursed self as Cora slowly stripped him of clothes and dignity both before leading him down to the basement, even if he did resist enough to force her to use a few well-placed _Nows_ to make him comply. The next two hours were a complete nightmare, and by the time she'd finished with her regimen of shocks—fiercer and longer than usual—Rumplestiltskin was shaking and panting where she'd tied him to the bed. That damn bed had restraints built in, and no matter how much he jerked and convulsed, he knew from vast experience that they'd not give. He hated feeling helpless, hated the way Cora reached out to tenderly brush sweat-drenched hair out of his face.

"Your little Lacey can't get reactions _nearly _this powerful out of you, can she?" Cora said, clearly satisfied with her work.

He looked at her incredulously, the truth finally dawning on him. Cora was _jealous_. She was envious of the relationship Gold had with Lacey, even though she must have known about it for quite some time. Oh, she was probably more irritated because that relationship meant her possession—Gold—was getting away from her, going to someone else for comfort, but all the same, he could read the expression on the face of his heartless former lover. That was the reason for the extra pain, the continual pushing of his limits. Cora was jealous.

"She's nothing," he managed to wheeze, hating himself for the lie. Or not quite lie. "Lacey is…just a distraction."

_Lacey_, after all, was just an overlay. A mask to protect Belle, as Gold protected him. In the end, Lacey would not matter. Only Belle would. That was his loophole, his way to speak truthfully and convince Cora that Lacey did not matter. That was the way he could keep his family safe from this monster to which he had given so much power.

_Forgive me, Belle._

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Kudos to everyone who guessed that Gold texted that little tidbit of information to Emma. He's working more behind the scenes here than he was in the show, but he's still in the game and hoping to make Emma sheriff. _

_Stay tuned for Chapter Eighteen: "Pressure Points", where Emma bursts into the asylum, Hook tries to get in Emma's good graces, and Rumplestiltskin fights with the urge to wake Belle up. Back in the past, David and Regina plot to rescue Snow and Regina turns to her mentor for help._

_While you're waiting for the next chapter, riddle me this: what unexpected people do you think will be found in the asylum? _


	18. Chapter 18: Pressure Points

_**Chapter Eighteen—"Pressure Points"**_

* * *

><p>"Look, Doctor, I <em>know <em>it's there," Emma said bluntly, standing with her hands on her hips. Mary Margaret Blanchard stood on one side and Sidney Glass on the other, all three glaring implacably. "And I'd _hate _to think that you have anything to do with imprisoning people without trial. In fact—"

"Wait a minute, what did you say?" Whale cut her off, his expression flashing from bored to worried in an instant.

"I said imprisoned without trial. As in, completely illegally. Or you can just call it kidnapping," Emma shrugged theatrically. "Whatever kind of picture you want to paint, you can bet it's going to be a messy one."

She didn't have to glance Sidney's way. Whale did that for her, turning his now-bug-eyed expression on the reporter as all the color drained out of his face. It seemed to take Storybrooke's senior doctor a long moment to find his voice; his mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times before he cleared his throat, still looking terrified. "I…I was told that it was an asylum. That everyone there, uh, belongs."

"There's no records of anyone having been lawfully committed," Emma retorted. They'd checked that one, spent two days combing through records just to make sure. After all, Emma couldn't discount the possibility of her anonymous tipster having lied to her, all to set her up for some spectacular failure. She wouldn't have put doing that past Cora, after all. The mayor would have loved to see her go down in flames. But that didn't seem to be the case—in fact, the text about _People disappear in Storybrooke_ seemed to be right on. Emma now had a list of eight people who had gone missing in the last twenty-eight years, every one of them having vanished without a trace. She was starting to wonder how many of them she'd find in the hospital's basement.

"But Doctor Beauregard—" Whale started to object, only to have Sidney cut him off.

"No such person," the reporter declared with a smile. "You, Doctor Hopper, and Doctor Miner are the only licensed physicians in town."

How even such a small town got away with having just one real doctor, one psychiatrist, and one pediatrician was beyond Emma, but medical licenses were a matter of public record, and the only Beauregard in town was a security guard. There definitely wasn't a second psychiatrist running some super-secret insane asylum underneath the hospital. All the information about the so-called asylum might have appeared plausible on paper, but once Emma started digging, the perfect façade fell apart pretty damn quickly.

To give Whale credit, he seemed to figure that one out, and didn't argue from that point forward. He also didn't ask why the fired deputy sheriff was the one demanding to go down there, accompanied by a reporter and a school teacher, either, for which Emma was extremely grateful. After all, it wasn't like she had a search warrant. She didn't have a damn thing except facts to back her up and a story that she'd promised Sidney would be a good one. Whale didn't _have _to take them down to the so-called asylum, and he probably shouldn't have done so, but once Sidney handed over records that proved to him that there actually _wasn't _a Doctor Beauregard (although Miles Beauregard did seem to be responsible for the asylum's security, he certainly didn't have any kind of medical degree), Whale proved surprisingly cooperative.

"Nurse Zephyr, would you mind coming with us?" Whale asked nervously as the quartet walked past a tall, pale nurse with long red hair. Her curls were pulled back in a bun, and she turned to look at them with a bright smile.

"Of course, Doctor."

Whale probably wanted to bring her along just in case Emma decided to do something crazy, she figured. So she spent a moment studying 'Chloe Zephyr', as her nametag read, and decided that the nurse looked harmless enough. If having her along made Whale feel better, Emma was just fine with that. She just wanted to get this done before someone more official showed up or before Whale wised up and started asking questions.

"Be careful, Emma," Mary Margaret said softly, placing a gentle hand on her arm while Whale punched a code in on a door labeled _EXIT_. "We don't—"

"I know," Emma cut her off before Mary Margaret could say something that might make Whale chicken out. She knew that she had no legal right to be there. That was why she'd had to bully Whale into taking them down there voluntarily.

Of course, the doctor had paused in the doorway, so Emma shot him a glare.

"Let's go," she prompted him, and Whale led the way down the stairs, followed a little too closely by Zephyr. A severe looking nurse sat at a desk at the bottom, glancing up at them with an expression filled with boredom and then a little surprise when she saw that Whale was accompanied by three people who definitely _weren't _hospital staff.

"A little early for check-ups, isn't it, Doctor?" the nurse asked, her eyebrows going up.

Whale shifted nervously. "We're, uh, here for something else today, Nurse Ratched."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we are." Emma threw a pointed look at Whale, and he finally shrugged.

"This way, I guess." She turned to follow him down the corridor, but not before Sidney tried a charming smile on for the nurse.

"May I see your patient records, please?" he asked.

The nurse frowned. "Does the mayor know about this?"

"Would we be here if she didn't?" Mary Margaret countered, and Emma hadn't thought she could look so innocent. _Particularly not if she's misleading someone. I didn't think that Mary Margaret had that in her. _Emma tried to hide her smile as Whale turned a corner and led her down a long hallway with six solid metal doors on each side. Meanwhile, Mary Margaret and Sidney tag-teamed the nurse into forking over a list of the people down there. Sidney wanted it to write an article, of course, but Emma knew that Mary Margaret would make sure that they got a copy of the information before Sidney ran off with it. Not that Emma didn't trust the reporter—he'd been helpful so far—but she knew that his first priority was writing a good story, not helping people.

"Let's get these doors open," Emma prompted Whale, and the doctor shrugged.

"When the mayor comes looking for blood, I'm sending her in your direction," he said irritably.

"Fine." A thought occurred to Emma, however, before Whale punched the code into the first door on the right. "None of these people are psycho kind of crazy, are they? Dangerous, I mean?"

Whale shook his head, albeit a little reluctantly. "No. They're quiet, mostly. A couple are amnesiacs, don't know who they are. A few are subject to harmless delusions. But none of them are dangerous."

"Then why are they down here?" Emma asked.

"Look, I never asked, okay?"

And wasn't that typical. Emma had been in a lot of small towns over the years, and she had _never _been in one that was run as oddly as Storybrooke was. Cora seemed to control everything in this place—and who ever heard of some secret asylum-cum-prison buried underneath a hospital? The fact that the asylum existence at all was absolute insanity, and there was no way in hell that no one in the town had never investigated this place before. How could they live with some secret prison right under their noses, a place where the mayor could shove anyone she wanted for however long she wanted? Emma couldn't wrap her mind around it. Out of all the odd things about this town, that stood out the most. There was no way that an entire town's worth of people could miss this.

_People disappear in Storybrooke_, the anonymous text had said. _Someone _had noticed. Why had that person waited until Emma was around to say something? This mystery got weirder and weirder by the moment.

In the end, they pulled six people out of stark, padded cells and brought them into the hospital proper. All were in good health, but it would take a while to identify them and try to figure out if they had family in town. Two had no memories at all—they were blank slates who basically knew how to function in the world, but nothing of themselves—three immediately told her stories of having angered Cora and having been wrongfully imprisoned (Michael Tillman was one of those, Emma was rather grateful to see), and the sixth kept talking about needing to find Will Scarlet and how the Evil Queen had taken his heart. That girl, Anastasia, might have actually been a little bit mad, but Emma was starting to really wonder. Nothing made sense, and how would some girl buried under the hospital have known about Henry's fairytale theory?

She made a mental note to ask Henry if there was a Will Scarlet or an Anastasia in the Book, and left the six former prisoners in Whale's capable hands the moment Archie arrived to evaluate them. Sidney was busy trying to interview them, and Mary Margaret had stuck around to help, but Emma had questions that needed answering. Now.

* * *

><p>Regina had intentionally distanced herself from Emma's crusade down to the asylum—it was one thing to be involved in searching for the place, but another entirely to tag along on the decidedly <em>illegal <em>trip down there. Like it or not, she remained the mayor's principle assistant, and that meant Regina couldn't afford to do things like that. Someone also had to stay at home to make sure Henry stayed out of it, given how useless David was on that front. The curse had turned her brother-in-law into a bit of a hopeless idiot, easy to manipulate and easier to run circles around. Regina loved the man dearly (Charming, anyway, _not _David Nolan), but her mother really had done a number on him here. Much like she once had done to her own husband, David Nolan was affable, biddable, and quick to give in.

Besides, he was filling in for Graham's volunteer shift at the animal hospital since the former sheriff was still in the hospital, which meant it was up to Regina to fetch Henry from school and make sure he didn't go running off to 'help' Emma. The last thing they needed was for Henry to do something that would bring Cora's attention to what they were doing. Regina would never forget that Cora had threatened Henry once before, and she couldn't afford to let Cora know that she was working against her. _He's not my blood, _Cora had said, and remembering those words always sent a chill down Regina's spine. Cora didn't care about Henry. She saw him as a tool to be used to control Regina, nothing more.

The front door slammed open, and Regina's head jerked around to glare at her son.

"I didn't do it!" Henry objected from his seat at the table. He was supposedly doing his homework, but Regina could tell he wasn't concentrating.

"Your father isn't due home until—"

"What the _hell _is wrong with this town?" Emma Swan demanded, storming into the kitchen. Regina started, blinking in surprise. Then she remembered that she'd foolishly given the Savior a key to her home, and invited her to come by at any time. _Which apparently includes when she wants to have a temper tantrum_.

"The list is long," she replied dryly.

"Tell me about it." Emma snorted. "How the hell can there be a secret prison that _no one _knew about? Scratch that. Whale knew. He had the damn combination to the _high security_ _lock_, and yet he never even thought to ask if any of those people had ever been _actually _declared insane. Which they hadn't, by the way. There isn't a single record to explain why they're done there, other than that your mother wanted them to be."

Regina couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Would Emma _ever _embrace the truth? She was still looking for logical answers, whereas Regina knew there were none. "Color me surprised," she muttered.

"That's really helpful," Emma glared.

"We keep telling you what the problem is," Henry pointed out bluntly, looking at his birth mother. "You just don't want to believe us."

"Because no rational person can believe that a small town in Maine is populated by fairy tale characters under a curse," Emma shot back.

"Rational towns don't have secret prisons buried under the hospital," Henry retorted, and Regina choked back a laugh.

"It isn't about rationality," she said before Emma could reply to their son. "And if you think it is, you really haven't been listening."

Emma groaned. "This again?"

"This _always_, Miss Swan," Regina snapped, her patience stretched to the breaking point. "You don't have to like it to believe it. You don't even have to think that it's logical, because maybe it isn't, or at least not in this world. But reality isn't always logical, and _this is real._ And like it or not, everyone's depending on you."

"I can't deal with that now. I'm running for sheriff in five days."

Regina wanted to smash her head into the counter, but instead she gritted her teeth and shoved back the urge to shake her niece. _I thought Snow could be bad, but Emma has distilled stubbornness down to an art form, _she thought irritably. "Fine," she said shortly. "Don't believe. Concentrate on getting elected, because maybe then you'll be able to make a difference."

That got her a skeptical look. "I'm no Savior, Regina. I'm just…me."

"Yeah, that's kind of the point."

If Regina was someone nicer, she would have said something encouraging. Snow certainly would have, but Regina had always been darker than her sister. She'd tried to be a good person, but she didn't always manage, and sometimes the darkness inside her shined through. So, she just met Emma's eyes squarely and dared the younger woman to argue. Emma glared back for a moment, and Regina could see her hackles coming up—but then emotion flashed across Emma's face, and she shrugged.

"You gonna help me get elected or not?" she finally asked.

"Of course I am," Regina replied with a sigh, exchanging a glance with Henry.

Sooner or later, they'd get Emma to believe. But today just wasn't going to be that day.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before The Curse<em>

Maybe now King George would let him go home.

News had just reached their kingdom that Princess Snow had killed King Leopold. The missive from Queen Cora had been short and to the point, but no one had to tell David that the engagement was off. Part of him was relieved, even if he didn't actually believe the story. He might have replaced James four months ago and been playing the part of prince ever since, but he didn't fit in here. The only time he'd felt even vaguely like he belonged somewhere other than the farm was when he'd been in Leopold's kingdom, doing his (sort of) adopted father's bidding and attempting to woo a princess. Apparently James hadn't done so well on that front before his accident—if you could call challenging a minotaur to a duel an _accident_—and George had been very insistent that David do better.

Much to his surprise, he'd rather liked the princess. He'd expected someone stuck up and, well, _royal_, and instead he'd met a down to earth and nice person.

"_You're different this time," Snow said as he led her through the steps of a dance he'd hastily learned just two weeks earlier. _

"_How so?"_

"_You're actually a little…charming," she replied, a hint of a smile touching her face. _

_David almost missed a step, trying to find a neutral answer that wouldn't give the game away. After all, only a handful of George's most trusted advisors knew about the swap, and David had to keep up pretenses in order to keep his mother safe and happy. "Are you saying that I wasn't before?"_

"_Actually, yes, I am," the princess retorted, twirling effortlessly. She made the dance look so easy, and David would have to be blind not to notice that she was beautiful._

"_Maybe I had a change of heart." He tried to shrug casually, but didn't think she believed him at all._

That evening—and the two after it—had been the most amazing time in David's life. For the first time, he'd found himself actually _wanting _to be the prince King George demanded he be, because there was something amazing about the princess whom people were already calling 'the fairest of them all'. Snow was kind, funny, and there was an undeniable spark in the air between them whenever they were together. David couldn't define exactly what that was, but there was certainly something about Snow White that made him want to get to know her. She was a princess and he was nothing but a dressed-up shepherd, but he wanted to fall in love with her.

When George and Leopold had finally finished ironing out the details of their betrothal two months after that, David had been ecstatic. He didn't like George, and he missed home more than ever, but the thought of marrying Snow wouldn't leave him alone. Even when Queen Cora insisted that no marriage could take place before Snow's twenty-first birthday—which was almost a year away!—David's enthusiasm remained high. George said that he could spend the intervening months learning to act like a real prince and learning to rule, but David would put up with that if it meant he could be with Snow. He'd never believed in love at first sight, but there was something about her that _mattered _to him.

_Apparently it _was _too perfect, _David thought, staring out the window at the night sky. His instincts had told him that he was no fairytale prince who would wed a princess and find True Love, and he should have listened to them. His 'perfect' princess had turned out to be a murderess, and George was already talking about marrying him to King Midas' daughter instead. George was even considering Princess Regina, who was six years _older _than he was, but apparently now stood to inherit Leopold's kingdom now that Snow was due to be executed. The entire thought sickened David, but—

"Good, you're alone," a voice said from behind him, and David whirled around. The one thing about being a prince that he'd found himself enjoying was swordplay, and his sword came easily to hand as he turned to face the interloper.

It was Regina.

"Well, I was before you barged in," he retorted without thinking, and then blinked, looking at the still-closed door. "How _did _you get in here?"

"Magic, of course," the princess his (not) father might want him to marry replied with a shrug.

David blinked. "I didn't know you used magic."

"It runs in the family," was her dry response.

"You mean that Snow…?" he asked without meaning to. It didn't matter anymore, but somehow it did.

"No. We're stepsisters, not half siblings. No shared blood," Regina corrected him. Then she shook her head. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because Snow needs your help."

David's heart leapt before he could stop it, but he stomped down on the reaction before his feelings could betray him. "I'm not sure that I should be really interested in helping someone who murdered her own father for power."

"Do you really think she'd do that?" the other princess retorted, turning an acidic glare on him.

"I don't know. I barely know her," he pointed out.

"Last I saw the two of you, you were in the middle of falling in love. What changed?"

"Hearing someone is guilty of murder does tend to change things," David replied wryly. Even as he said that, though, he kept thinking about what Regina had said. He knew how close the sisters were. If _she _didn't believe Snow was guilty, maybe she wasn't. Regina knew Snow better than anyone. _Maybe, just maybe…_

"Look, if you don't want to help, just say so. I'll do this without you," Regina snapped, starting to turn away. Her pretty face—because no one could deny that both sisters were quite beautiful—was lined with worry, and David could see that her anger stemmed from concern. So he grabbed her arm.

"Wait. No, I didn't mean—I just—this is all coming at me pretty fast, all right?" he tried to explain. "Can you tell me what actually happened? If Snow didn't kill King Leopold, who did?"

"That doesn't matter," was the somewhat evasive answer. "My mother's behind it."

"Why?" David wanted to know. Queen Cora had struck him as a very intelligent and driven woman, and maybe a little bit creepy, but not as someone who would frame her stepdaughter for murder.

"Power. Why else?"

* * *

><p>"Your paperwork says your name is Victoria Scadlock," Mary Margaret said as gently as she could, sitting in a booth at Granny's while they sorted through the former prisoners. She was trying to stop the blonde woman from starting in on another rambling denial, but so far was only meeting with limited success. "You are married but separated from Francis Scadlock, the senior editor at the <em>Daily Mirror<em>, and—"

"Give it up, sister," another voice interjected. "She doesn't remember a thing."

Mary Margaret blinked. The man who spoke was utterly familiar. "Leroy?" she asked incredulously.

"Glad to see you remember me," the bald man replied caustically. "Since you and everyone else seemed to forget about me the moment I was stuffed in that asylum for a crime I didn't commit."

"I thought…I thought you left town," she stuttered, shaking her head in confusion. "Everyone thought that."

"Well, everyone was wrong," Leroy retorted, and then grimaced as Archie approached. "Do I _really _have to do this, Doc? I _know_ I'm not crazy. Though I'm not so sure about the rest of you."

Archie's smile was gentle. "Then it shouldn't take long, should it?"

From across the table from Snow, Victoria Scadlock looked at Archie like he was some sort of dangerous creature. "Who are you?" she demanded. "I've never seen you before." Then she turned back to glare at Mary Margaret. "And my name isn't Victoria. It's _Anastasia._"

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before The Curse<em>

She could do this without her mother knowing, Regina told herself. James had agreed to help, and that meant Regina should be able to foist the blame off where it couldn't do any damage. She didn't think that James had discussed the matter with his father, but King George was a practical and ambitious man. He would jump at the opportunity to marry his heir to Snow and claim Leopold's kingdom through her. Midas might have been able to turn anything into gold with a touch, but the kingdom Snow stood to inherit was the largest and most self-sufficient in the entire Enchanted Forest. Combined with George's, it would become an absolute powerhouse. _George will think that's worth a little war or two against Mother, _Regina thought behind a smile, _and if _that _happens, she'll be distracted enough that I can rescue Daniel!_

"Thinking of saving your little stepsister?" a high-pitched voice asked her, and the question as accompanied by an annoying laugh. Turning, Regina looked at the owner of that obnoxious giggle, worry making her heart skip a beat.

"How did you know?" she demanded.

Her teacher waved an airy hand. "I do see the future, you know."

"Then it'll work?" Regina asked desperately, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. "Will we succeed?"

"Now that you've recruited her little prince into the game, it will." Reptilian eyes studied her, and Rumplestiltskin's expression went unreadable. "But everything has its price, dear. Are you sure you're willing to pay?"

"She's my sister," Regina replied firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Ooooh," Rumplestiltskin trilled, his eyes suddenly dancing and his hands twirling excitedly. "Such courage!"

"Stop it," she snapped. "Can you teach me anything that will help, or not?"

She knew better than to ask if _he _would rescue Snow, or if she could bring her little sister to the Dark Castle for safety afterwards. Rumplestiltskin would remain neutral in this conflict, even if he did so enjoy irking her mother from time to time. He wouldn't take sides. It was up to Regina, but if she could glean a little useful knowledge from him, anything her mother would not expect—and could not detect—she would take what she could get.

The damn imp was studying her again. Contemplatively.

"You know," he said slowly, "I think I have just the thing."

* * *

><p>"Congratulations, Miss Swan," a voice said, making Emma look up from her breakfast. "The entire town is talking about you."<p>

"Killian," she said in surprise, taking the folded newspaper that the marina owner was holding out. She hadn't expected the dark-haired man to show up while she was sharing breakfast with Regina, David, and Henry the Saturday before the election, just one day after she, Mary Margaret, and Sidney had barged into the asylum. "What are you doing here?"

"Admiring you, apparently," O'Malley replied with a sultry smile. Emma gave him a hard look before glancing down at the _Daily Mirror_.

And there it was. Splashed right across the top of the front page as the headline story that Sidney had wanted so badly were the words "**SECRET ASYLUM UNEARTHED BY CANDIDATE FOR SHERIFF**". Emma had to read the words a few times before she managed to scan the article, the words leaping off the page. To her left, Henry leaned over to read it, too, and Emma could feel the smile radiating off him before she'd even managed to read half of the words.

"Way to go, Emma!" Henry exalted, and even Regina had cracked a smile. Emma had to admit that seeing the article felt damn good—she really did want to win the election, but she wanted to do it the right way. Doing this, freeing six innocent people, really mattered, and as weird as this town was, that still had to count for something. A lot, maybe.

"Henry's right," David said. "I think you've got this election in the bag."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Regina interjected, echoing Emma's thoughts. "Don't count my mother out yet. She's bound to have another trick up her sleeve."

"Ah, Cora's more bark than bite," David replied with a shrug and a smile at his wife. But there was nothing affectionate in the annoyed look Regina shot him.

"That's what you think," she muttered, just as Emma realized that O'Malley was still standing at the end of their table. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," she said. "It really is great news."

"It's my pleasure, love," O'Malley replied with a wink. "Perhaps some time we might discuss it in private?"

Emma tried not to scowl. If this was O'Malley's way of trying to invite himself to breakfast with them, it certainly wasn't going to work. She was grateful that he'd brought her the article, and she wasn't blind to his obvious physical charms, but O'Malley would have to do a lot more if he wanted to get into her good graces. _Like actually helping, not just waving newspapers in my face_, Emma thought. He'd said that he knew people and that he was willing to help her get elected, but so far all Emma had heard from Cyril Call-Me-Killian O'Malley was words.

"Maybe," she replied dryly, giving him a droll look. Pretty face or not, Emma really didn't like a man whose first attempt to come onto her had started when she'd been visiting the bedside of the last man she'd dated. Maybe there was nothing serious between her and Graham, but until she could get that damn restraining order lifted, there was no way to know.

Fortunately, Killian seemed smart enough to get the hint, and left the diner before Regina said something obnoxious to him. Judging from the look on her face—and from the placating expression David was wearing—Regina had been warming up to do just that, and Emma found herself rather grateful for the older woman at the moment. Henry seemed to think that Regina was her aunt, and although Henry's theory _had _to be absolutely bogus, Emma thought she might have liked to have an aunt like Regina. _Or family, anyway. It would be nice to have family._

* * *

><p>Their relationship had returned to quiet looks and subtle touches, sneaking glances when no one was looking and trying to pretend they meant nothing to one another. Rumplestiltskin knew it was foolish—staying away from Belle was the <em>only <em>way to keep her and Gabi safe—but he couldn't help himself. He was such a weak man, so desperate and so needy, and Lacey _was _Belle save in one or two ways that mattered. She was brave, bold, and she'd loved Gold even when she should not. Lacey had been the only thing that kept Gold sane through all those years with Cora, the only bright spot in an otherwise dark world. She was so much like Belle, except quieter and so much more easily cowed…but who wasn't, in Cora's Storybrooke? She had not wanted to make people strong enough to resist her.

And even when that option existed, doing so was never a good idea, as Rumplestiltskin's previous evening had proved. Fortunately for him, Cora had actually let him go that Sunday morning instead of forcing him to stay longer, but she'd left him with more aches and pains than he wanted to think about, and several reminders he was steadfastly _not _thinking about. He was still shaking when he made it home, and hesitated for several long moments before cautiously sinking onto his couch and pouring himself a glass of scotch. The drink did nothing to steady him, but he wasn't in any shape to climb the stairs right now, no matter how much he wanted to wash away Cora's touch. But he resisted the urge to pour himself another at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.

Pressure points. Not his, but the curse's. They could both feel it happening, could sense what Emma Swan's discovery under the hospital was doing. The curse was weakening, and Rumplestiltskin had felt the victory inherent in that—after all, _he _had pointed the Savior in that direction with that tiny little text message—until Cora had torn him down off that high with a nightmare of pain and humiliation. She'd gone further than ever before, left him hurting and reeling and so very ready to curl up and cry. Rumplestiltskin had tried to cling to his pride and self-control, but Cora had stripped that away, too, leaving him shaking and shuddering and pleading until she had gagged him. He was a wreck, as bad as Gold had ever been, desperate to find some way to overcome his own humanity.

Finally, trembling fingers pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number almost without thinking. Lacey answered on the second ring.

"Gold?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I thought you said you weren't going to call."

"I just needed to hear your voice," he admitted, his voice cracking and hating himself for the weakness, hating _needing _so badly and hurting so much. He was so damn lonely, and he wanted his family, needed someone to be there to tell him that he didn't have to face this by himself. He'd been a hair's breath away from using his own caveat to put a stop to the previous evening's activities, a heartbeat away from letting Cora know he was awake. But he didn't dare. Doing that could put _everything _in jeopardy, and Rumplestiltskin would not sacrifice his chance to find his son just because he was in a little pain.

Or a lot.

"You sound terrible," Lacey said softly.

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "I think I am."

"I'm coming over," she replied immediately, not bothering with inane questions or silly reassurances. "Just let me—"

"No," he cut her off, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "Sweetheart, you can't. I'll be all right. I just needed…I just needed to talk to you. That's all."

"Gold—"

"No."

"I know you're convinced that she can hurt me, but she's only the mayor. She's not that powerful, and I'll take that risk," Lacey said stubbornly, sounding more like Belle than ever before. "You're worth fighting for. I'll chance it."

Oh, he loved this woman. Her words were almost enough to make him tell her to come over, to throw caution to the wind, and to—

_No, _Rumplestiltskin told himself firmly. _You can't. You can't endanger her, no matter how badly you need her. Gabrielle needs her more than you do, and if Cora_ knew_…_ The thought made him shiver. And his fear of _that _was stronger than the fear of what Cora's caveats could let her do to him, stronger than the maelstrom of terror and pain still whipping through him. He had never been strong, but he _could _choose love over fear.

"I won't chance it," Rumplestiltskin managed to say firmly. "Stay away from me. Keep yourself—and Renee—safe. Please. I'll go. I just had to talk to you."

"Don't—"

"I love you." He hung up before he could hear her reply, before he could listen to Lacey try to wrap her mind around the fact that Gold had _never_, not once, said those words to her. But Rumplestiltskin needed to say it, and he needed her to know. Lacey wasn't Belle…but he loved her anyway. And their daughter.

He had to keep them safe.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Thank you again to all my lovely readers! I'm going to be a NaNoWriMo Rebel this year and continue this story instead of starting something new, so feel free to cheer me on if you want. Kudos to everyone who guessed that Michael Tillman and Anastasia were in the asylum! The other three people who were down there may eventually come up, but right now they're not as important as the three who were named._

_Stay tuned for Chapter Nineteen: "Love and Family", in which Cora issues a terrifying threat, elections for sheriff commence, Lacey runs into her father, and Hook tries to seduce Emma. Back in the past, Regina and David go to rescue Snow and Rumplestiltskin pays his father-in-law a visit._

_Oh, and did you catch Zelena's cameo?_


	19. Chapter 19: Love and Family

_**Questions to Answer:**_

_1. Where was Zelena's cameo? Some of you guessed right: Nurse Zephyr is indeed our favorite green witch. She doesn't know who she is at the moment, but depending upon Cora's mood, that might change._

_2. Why was Leroy in the asylum? Mostly because Cora doesn't like him, and finds him annoying. He's loyal to Snow, and Cora wants to punish anyone who was._

_3. Will Regina and Emma get in a battle over Henry? Not this time around, but they'll face plenty of other challenges._

* * *

><p>Warning: non-graphic references to torture in this chapter<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Nineteen—"Love and Family"<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Regina, dearest, you've been avoiding me," Cora said, striding into Regina's office. She was dressed in a black business suit again, all polish and sharp edges, but did she never realize how <em>ominous <em>that made her look? Then again, knowing her mother, she treasured the look, even if she should have been trying to fool the hapless residents of Storybrooke into complacency. A metaphorical thunderstorm rolled along over her head, now, however, and Regina managed not to smile upon seeing it. There were only two days to go left before the elections, and Cora was getting _angry_.

"Nonsense, Mother. I've just been busy."

"Helping Miss Swan run for election," her mother half-snarled, her dark eyes flashing.

"Henry's interested in it. I thought you'd be happy that he's concentrating on something other than fairy tales," she replied sweetly. This was the first time she'd tried to stand up to her mother since their horrible confrontation at Graham's bedside. Regina had tried to put forth the appearance of good behavior since then, but the easiest way to do that was by avoiding Cora. Unfortunately, it was hard to do that when her mother walked in like this.

"Your impertinence is not amusing," Cora snapped. "Don't forget the consequences of disobeying me."

Before she knew it, Regina was on her feet. Perhaps she'd been on her best behavior for too long, or maybe she was just ready to snap. "Oh, I don't know. It's harder for you to murder people in this world, particularly now that you've crippled your favorite henchmen."

"You still have those you care about." The smile was sickeningly sweet.

"You won't touch Snow or David. You're too obsessed with your revenge," Regina scoffed. _And you can't kill Emma without breaking the curse!_

"Ah, but that doesn't protect Henry, now, does it?"

The world dropped out from under Regina, and suddenly her legs stopped working. Her rear hit the chair hard enough to make her teeth rattle, but she never noticed. Every cell in her body went cold. So cold.

"You wouldn't," she whispered, memories whirling through her mind.

"Test me, darling," said the woman who had once imprisoned and tortured Regina's True Love.

Regina swallowed hard, her temper forgotten. "No," she whispered. "I won't." Because Cora _would _hurt Henry. Regina had no doubts on that front—Cora had gone so far as to point out that Henry wasn't _her _blood not too long ago. The next words came out quiet and broken: "What do you want?"

"You'll not support Miss Swan in her lunatic desire to become sheriff," Cora replied conversationally, her tone as mild as it might be were she discussing the weather. "If anyone asks, you will voice your unreserved desire for Keith Law to be elected. Understood?"

"Yes, Mother," Regina whispered, feeling more helpless than she had in years.

Cora smiled. "Good. I knew you'd see things my way."

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

A wave of Regina's hand distracted both guards and warped their minds into believing no one was in the poorly-lit corridor. It wasn't exactly an invisibility spell—those, Rumplestiltskin had insisted, were beyond her current level of expertise—but it was a small and important distraction which more or less made both guards believe that nothing had changed. She could have knocked them out, or let James kill them, but doing so would have alerted Cora. Regina knew that her mother had enchanted every guard who worked in the dungeons to alert her if they were in any way incapacitated; Cora did not plan on taking any risks where Snow as concerned. Of course, Regina had found that out the last time she'd tried to visit Daniel without permission, but she knew that Cora would have used the same safeguards here.

Rumplestiltskin's little spell, however, sailed right through the protections her mother had set up, just as he'd said it would. The distraction would only last ten minutes or so, but that was enough time for Regina and James to get Snow away. She'd managed to teleport herself and the prince as deep in the dungeons as she dared, close enough that these should be the only two guards she had to fool. No one came down here for recreation, after all, and—

"What was that?" the sharp-eared prince asked.

She'd heard it, too, footsteps approaching from a corridor off to the right. "I'll deal with that," Regina said, thinking quickly. "You go get Snow out. I'll meet you there."

"Right."

"Here. Take these." She held out the key ring that the Huntsman had turned a blind eye to her stealing; she really did rather like the poor man, and he often tried to rebel against her mother in small ways. Regina knew that her mother was planning on using the Huntsman as her executioner—Cora loved to watch him hate killing when the whim hit her—so he was more than willing to help her as subtly as he could.

"Thanks," James said, and quickly jogged down towards Snow's cell. Regina turned away, slipping into the shadows and readying that little distraction spell once again. Rumplestiltskin had shown her how to adjust it, how to use the spell to make someone turn and walk the opposite direction with just a tiny push.

_There._ The spark leapt out of her hand, and soon enough, the footsteps faded into the distance. Regina did not stop to see who it was; there wasn't time, and she didn't care. Instead, she turned and followed in James' path, coming around the corner in front of Snow's cell just in time to hear a horrible _thunk_ and hear James hiss in pain before crumbling to the ground. Rushing forward and grasping magic in her hands, Regina prepared herself for the worst. If her mother was down here, she'd have to throw caution to the wind and fight her, because Regina wasn't going to let her sister die. Not like this, not ever, and certainly not to satisfy her mother's insane thirst for revenge. Snow was her sister, and Regina _would _protect her. She came out of the shadows with her hands full of fire, ready to attack—

Only to find herself face to face with her horrified sister.

"James?" Snow gasped, standing over the dazed prince with a rock in her hand.

Of course. They'd both been wearing hoods, and Snow hadn't been able to recognize James until after she'd brained him with a rock. But his impact with the floor must have made James' hood fall off, because now he was blinking dizzily and Snow was staring at him in horror. A sudden wild spike of amusement made the fireballs in Regina's hands sputter out; it was all she could do not to giggle. The stalwart warrior prince had been felled by a princess who was a half a foot shorter than he was…and a rock.

"Hello to you, too," James said unevenly, looking woozy.

"What are you doing here?" Snow demanded, and then went a little red. "I'm so sorry!"

"I came to rescue you, but I think you were doing okay by yourself," the prince replied, struggling to his feet. Snow reached out to help him, and Regina could almost physically _feel _the spark travelling between the two; magic resonated around them and filled the air with sweetness.

Snow smiled, and James smiled back, and Regina could see them falling even further in love. _True Love, _Rumplestiltskin had told her once, she remembered with a pang in her heart, _is the most powerful magic. But it has to be fought for._

"Enough, you two," she interrupted, clearing her throat to push away her own traitorous feelings. "You can get all lovey-dovey later. Right now, it's time to get you out of here."

Snow started. "Regina?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" she grinned at her sister, pulling her hood down. "I told you that I wasn't going to let it end like this."

Suddenly, her arms were full of her sister and Snow was hugging her tightly. Regina returned the embrace, and felt Snow shake with emotion. "I never doubted you," her little sister whispered.

"I bet you didn't," Regina replied, but she felt herself smiling. "Now, let's get out of here. I can't teleport the three of us very far, but I can give us a head start to where James and I left some horses."

"Your mother is going to be furious." Snow pulled back to look at her.

"Let her," Regina declared, gesturing the prince closer.

Moments later, purple magic swirled around the trio, pulling Snow out of the dungeons and away from her pending execution.

* * *

><p>Lacey had vague memories of voting in elections in Storybrooke, but she couldn't recall a turnout like this. It seemed like the entire town had shown up to vote in the elections for Sheriff, and everyone who <em>wasn't <em>talking about how Graham would never walk again was still talking about the mysterious asylum that Emma Swan had found underneath the library. The mayor, of course, had gone on record immediately to say that she knew _nothing _about this, and she'd even had Keith Law arrest one Miles Beauregard. Blame was being dropped right on Beauregard's head, even though he claimed at first to be nothing but a security guard. Today's edition of the _Daily Mirror_, however, said that he'd confessed to creating the asylum and locking all kinds of innocent people up in it.

Lacey found that more than a little suspicious. Oh, the headline was typical enough: **"MILD MANNERED SECURITY GUARD A CLOSET PSYCHOPATH?" **and any article written by Francis Scadlock was sure to be sensationalized. But she found the sudden confession odd.

Not that it was any of her business. She was just there to vote for sheriff—and _not_ for the creep that had been stalking her almost as long as she could remember. So, Lacey stepped into the voting booth, filled out her ballot, and then stepped back out once she was finished. Ruby had somehow slipped into line behind her (Whale had probably let her in so he could get an unobstructed view of her backside), and she gave Lacey a quick smile and wave as she ducked in to take her place.

Four steps later, Lacey almost ran straight into her father. She managed to stop just short of hitting him, blinking in surprise. Moe French had been smiling, but when he looked down at her he started frowning.

"Hi, Dad," she said quietly.

His frown turned into a scowl. "Lacey."

"How are you?" she asked, glad he hadn't walked away yet. He usually did by this point, and Lacey felt pathetic for craving his approval so much, but she _missed _him. Renee was almost four years old! Surely her father had gotten over that by now. Renee deserved to know her grandfather, and Lacey missed her father. Moe had been trying to pretend that neither of them existed ever since Lacey had refused to have her child aborted, and then compounded matters by refusing to do a paternity test to determine who had fathered "it". Her father hadn't approved of either choice, but Lacey had been an adult, and he'd not been able to change her mind. So, he'd settled for disowning her and refusing to meet his granddaughter even once.

"I'm fine," Moe replied shortly, immediately starting to turn away. "Excuse me."

Desperately, Lacey grabbed his arm. "Don't," she pleaded.

The look her father turned on her was anything but loving, but Lacey was at her wits' end. Gold's paranoia had left her strung out and lonely. Their relationship had never been what someone could call conventional, but she'd always known that he cared for her. But listening to him say that he loved her right before he hung up on her had left Lacey in terrible need of family to turn to, and the only family she had other than Renee was her father. She'd known that calling him would only result in getting hung up on—and less nicely than Gold had done—but surely running into him like this had to be some sort of sign. Didn't it?

"I have places to be, Lacey," Moe told her dismissively, shrugging off the hand on his arm.

"More important than talking to your daughter for the first time in years?" she asked daringly, _willing _his answer to be different this time. Lacey wasn't blind. Things were changing in Storybrooke. Surely this could change, too?

"You're no daughter of mine," her father snapped, and Lacey jerked back, blinking back tears that wanted to rise. He'd told her not to come back, but—

"Dad—" she started, only to be cut off.

"Unless you've decided to come to your senses and get rid of the brat?"

"_What?_" Lacey gasped, a sudden surge of fury quashing the desire to cry. She snarled: "That's your granddaughter you're talking about."

"Your brat is no relation of mine," Moe retorted. "You had a good life, Lacey. Tony would have married you and given you a respectable name, but instead you had to ruin everything, didn't you? All because you couldn't keep your legs shut."

She'd had enough. All Lacey wanted was her father to act like he once did, to love her and understand her. Instead he berated her and told her she was a whore. "I never wanted to marry Tony," she snapped. "_You _just wanted his father's money to cover up your gambling debts, and he wouldn't give you a cent when I sent his precious boy packing."

Her father went bright red, and for a moment, Lacey thought he might hit her. But Moe hadn't done that often, save for the legendary walloping he'd delivered when she'd told him that she was pregnant. She'd gone to him frightened and in tears, and Moe had just been worried how his business associates would react to him finding out that his daughter was about to become an unwed mother. When he'd told her to leave, Lacey had been more than willing to do so, particularly since her father never apologized for what he'd said and done that night. She'd been willing to let it go, to patch things up with him…but he wasn't worth it.

"You brought shame down on your family," Moe said defensively, and Lacey rolled her eyes.

"I thought you said that I wasn't your family," she retorted. "And Renee has no problems at all with me. _She's _my family." She shook her head sadly, feeling grief war with anger and knowing she'd have a good cry later. "I don't know why I tried to talk to you. Forget it. You're not worth it."

Lacey spun and walked away before her father could say another word, her head held high and refusing to look back. She'd never stop loving her father, but until he decided to act decently towards her, she was done with him. Let him make the first move next time. Lacey was through working to get close to someone who didn't give a damn about her.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

"Do you think we should tell Papa?" Belle asked, looking at where her right hand lay on her stomach. She wasn't showing yet, but she'd missed two months in a row, and Rumplestiltskin's magic had confirmed the truth for them just a week earlier. She was pregnant. They were going to have a _child._ Solid proof of their love was growing in her belly, and Belle was almost beside herself with excitement.

Had someone asked her a year earlier if she would have been excited to be with child, Belle would have responded pragmatically. Back then, she would have expected that any child she carried would be Gaston's, and that she would by now be safely married to the knight and expected to act as his broodmare. She would never have believed someone if they'd told her she would now be married to her True Love and carrying _his _child; in fact, Belle would have told that person they were crazy and that her life was already mapped out. She'd accepted her fate, after all, even if she had jumped at an opportunity to escape the drudgery of being Gaston's properly adoring broodmare. Go with a monster and save her people, even if it ruined her prospects and carried with it a potential of death? Belle was glad for the opportunity if it let her escape the perfectly proper life her father had scripted for her.

When the beast turned out to be less a monster and more a man—despite his outer looks—Belle had been delighted. Getting to know Rumplestiltskin had been slow and tricky, but he was worth the work. Now they were married, and if Belle's math was right, this miracle child in her belly had been conceived sometime around their magical wedding in Amorveria. She didn't know, and didn't care, if the child had been conceived there or here in the Dark Castle. Belle loved both of Rumplestiltskin's forms, human and Dark One both, and she was just happy to be with him, even when the infuriating man did things like doubt himself.

Fortunately, at the moment, _Rumplestiltskin _was not the man who worried her. And her husband was sitting next to her on the couch, his hand lying on top of hers. She didn't care if he had blackened claws instead of human nails, or that his hands shimmered goldly and were slightly scaled. Rumplestiltskin was _hers_, and he was exactly what she needed right now: a shoulder to lean on when her hopes were being dashed.

"That's….that's up to you, sweetheart," her husband answered her question softly.

"He still hasn't responded to my last letter," Belle replied sadly. "For the fifth time."

"I know."

Her father had been ignoring every message Belle sent since before their marriage, and having him ignore her hurt worse than Belle could ever have imagined. She'd always known that her father loved her, even if Sir Maurice had never _understood _her very well. Still, he'd always been there for her, and she knew that he'd argued so strongly against her coming with Rumplestiltskin because he loved her. Belle had thought he'd be against the idea of them marrying, and had braced herself for his anger…but she had never imagined that Maurice would just ignore her instead of saying a word in return.

It had made her cry more than once. Now she was only sad—and angry, too, but mostly sad that her father had apparently decided to cut her out of his life without even talking to her. Without even _writing _her. He didn't even have the decency to tell her that he was doing it; Belle learned through his lack of responses. _I thought I knew Papa better than that, _she thought dejectedly, and then glanced up at Rumplestiltskin with eyes that started to fill with tears again.

"Oh, sweetheart," her love whispered, and before Belle knew what was happening, he'd pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. If it wasn't me you married—"

"Shut up," she cut him off, her voice muffled in his shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut didn't stop a few tears from leaking out, and Rumplestiltskin's silk shirt would suffer for that, but neither of them really noticed. "It's not your fault."

"Belle, I know what I am," Rumplestiltskin objected, sounding both annoyed and resigned. "If you'd married anyone other than a monster, your father would not be acting like this."

"I don't care," she replied stubbornly. "I love you. If Papa can't accept that, that's his problem."

"I could—"

"No," Belle cut him off again, not even wanting to know what Rumplestiltskin was going to volunteer to do. She straightened to look her husband in the eye. "Promise me you won't turn my father into anything. Or _do _anything to him. Please."

At least he had the grace to look a little abashed. "Of course I won't. I promise."

"Good." Squaring her shoulders bravely, Belle swallowed back her grief. "My family is here," she told Rumplestiltskin, glancing significantly at her stomach once more. "Papa will come around, and if he doesn't"—her voice tried to crack, but she fought it back—"I made my choice."

Later, it would occur to Belle that she'd never asked Rumplestiltskin to promise not to _talk _to her father, but by then it was too late. Her husband was very specific in the promises he made, and while Belle could count on him not killing her father (even if that was a loophole she'd inadvertently left him), she'd never specified that Rumplestiltskin was not to scare Maurice. Protective as he was, Rumplestiltskin was bound to do _something_, and by the time he fessed up to it, the damage was done.

* * *

><p>He'd seen the two of them talk, and had seen Lacey march away with her head held high. It took all of Rumplestiltskin's self-control not to stalk over and tell his father-in-law what he thought of him, but he'd done that before and the fool hadn't gotten the message then, either. Moe French was a cold-hearted bastard who ignored his daughter and granddaughter. At least Sir Maurice had wanted his daughter back, even if he had not wanted to respect her choices. Rumplestiltskin had never thought that he could respect someone lessthan he respected Maurice, but Moe French had thoroughly accomplished that. How <em>anyone <em>could ever live with themselves for abandoning their own child was a mystery to him. Letting Bae go had been the worst decision Rumplestiltskin had ever made, and he hated himself every day for not being there for Gabi.

_Renee, _he told himself firmly, watching Lacey's back and aching to go to her. But he couldn't, not in public. Not for either one of them. _Your daughter doesn't know you are her father, not here, and she's _safer _that way._

Yet he still felt like he was abandoning them both, and it burned.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

"She deserves better, you know," Rumplestiltskin said, barely able to keep the acid out of his voice.

He had stood silently in the shadows as Maurice took Belle's newest letter—the sixth—out of the box they had sent with Gaston and burned it unread. The fool had probably tried to put the box in the fire when it showed up, not understanding that Rumplestiltskin had enchanted it to be proof against such things. So now it sat on a bookshelf in the fool's presence chamber, gathering dust until Maurice removed every letter soon after it arrived.

Rumplestiltskin was rather gratified to see that Maurice jumped, went stark white, and then spun to face him. Belle might frown at him frightening her father, but the bastard deserved every bit of fear Rumplestiltskin could instill in him. The larger man looked utterly shocked to find the Dark One in his private chambers, and the knight's eyes darted wildly around the room, searching for a weapon before he seemed to realize that going for one would be utterly useless. For his part, Rumplestiltskin just danced away from the wall, light on his feet and his posture all the more threatening because he didn't _have _to act overtly dangerous.

"What have you done to my Belle?" Sir Maurice demanded.

The fool had courage. Rumplestiltskin had to give him that. Most fathers would have written their daughters off the moment the Dark One swept them away, but Maurice had sent Gaston to save her, and had tried to say no to Rumplestiltskin's demand. Most fathers crumbled far more quickly than Maurice had, sending the wailing daughters off to be maids for the Dark One and forgetting them soon after.

Rumplestiltskin had plenty of experience with the type. He'd bargained for more than one maid over the centuries, and although he hadn't murdered most of them, or even driven most insane (that was just the once, and the girl really did have it coming), he found that their families never wanted them back. No, they were considered contaminated or dead, and he sent most of them off under better circumstances than they'd arrived after he tired of them. None of them had been anything like Belle, of course, but he'd not mistreated all of them. Or even most. He'd certainly never despoiled any of them! Not that it had mattered to their families. Thinking of that only stoked his temper; having had a family and lost it, Rumplestiltskin would never be able to understand how some men viewed their wives and children as possessions.

"I?" he asked sharply. "_I _am not the one who has refused to even _read _her letters. I think, dearie, that it's you who's doing the damage, not I."

Maurice had the decency to flinch slightly at that. "I read the first one," the knight said with Belle's courage. "I saw how you enchanted her. I'm not going to read things that I know you have forced her to write."

"Forced?" Somehow, that possibility had never occurred to Rumplestiltskin, and he hoped that it had never occurred to Belle, either. The entire concept took him by surprise. Why would he have forced her to write anything, even if she was only his maid?

"My Belle would never fall for a beast like you," Maurice spat.

"Then you never knew her very well at all, now, did you?" Rumplestiltskin retorted before he could stop himself, giggling nastily, with the dark voice of his curse only egging him on. _Tell him how you deflowered his daughter. Tell him how she cried your name._ Shoving that aside, he grinned, all rotten teeth and victory: "I never _needed _to enchant her."

_All I needed to do was fall in love_, he thought, but he'd never admit that. Not with the look on Maurice's face.

"My poor girl," the knight breathed, and the curse cackled within Rumplestiltskin. With an effort, he brought it under control.

"Indeed, your 'poor girl'," he snarled. "Poor in that her father ignores her and will not respond to even her most heartfelt entreaties. _Poor _in that she wishes for her father to know of her happiness, and he spits in her face by turning his back on her, even when she saved his miserable life."

"I am not—" Maurice started, but Rumplestiltskin cut him off.

"You made her cry, _Sir Maurice_," he said, his voice high and mocking. "I'm of a mind to kill you for that alone."

"Begone, demon, and torment me no more," was the response, and if Rumplestiltskin had not been able to detect conflict on Maurice's face, he would have killed him then and there. Yet the next words did not help him rein in his temper. "We will honor Belle's memory and her sacrifice as she would want us to honor them. I will not sully her memory with your foul words or fouler deeds."

Rumplestiltskin gaped. "You speak of her as if she were dead."

"I am sure that she will be when you are through with her," Maurice said sadly. "I have grieved for my daughter already. Why must you mock me?"

_Safe. _He had promised Belle—oh, so long ago—that her friends and family would be safe. Surely that covered this cretin, but Rumplestiltskin's temper, never mind that of the curse, was raging so strongly that he had to remind himself of this. Repeatedly. He had come here to try to get Maurice to respond to Belle's letters, because Belle _loved _this fool, and this was what he got in response? Maurice did not deserve Belle's affection.

"Mock you?" he demanded in a snarl. "If I were mocking you, dear, you would know it."

Quickly, Rumplestiltskin closed the distance between them, and was gratified to see the much larger man cringe away from him. He had never been tall, but as the Dark One, he did not need to be.

"I came here," he continued very slowly, doggedly holding back his desire to squash this fool like the bug he was, "because _Belle _misses you. But she deserves better than to know that you think of her as tainted and dead."

He spat the last words with enough fury that a wind was starting to whip around the room, making tapestries lift off of the walls and the windows shake in their mountings. But Rumplestiltskin did not care.

"How could I not, with what you must have done to her?"

If that was genuine pain on Maurice's face, Rumplestiltskin was too angry to notice it.

"She is my wife!" he thundered.

"Call it what you will," Maurice replied brokenly. "But I know my daughter would never willingly consent to such an unholy match, and I shudder to think of what you have done to her."

The image of a father grieving for his child—whom he was undoubtedly imagining hurt and abused—was enough to douse the worst of Rumplestiltskin's rage.

"I am not that kind of monster," he said quietly, but even as the words came out, he knew Maurice would never believe him.

Rumplestiltskin did not wait for a response; instead, he vanished in a swirl of golden smoke. The color made him think of the dress Belle had worn the day they first met, but it gave him no comfort. _That is what you get for trying to reason with fools, _his curse whispered in his mind. _Do not care what they think. They are beneath you._ Usually, Rumplestiltskin knew better than to listen to that voice, knew better than to give in to it. But in this case, he rather thought he agreed with his curse. They were _all _beneath him. All except Belle.

* * *

><p>"Can I buy you that drink now, love?"<p>

Killian had to raise his voice to be heard over the din inside Granny's; it seemed like half the town was packed in there to celebrate. Of course, had Keith Law—despicable lowlife that he was—won the race for sheriff, the party would have been at the Rabbit Hole and probably would have involved ladies of ill repute, but Killian tried not to let his disappointment show. Although that party might have been wilder and far more entertaining, it would not help him accomplish his goals. So, he had to make do with what he had.

Given how furious Cora was going to be over being thwarted like this, he rather figured that he needed all the points in his favor that he could get. Cora had told him a week earlier than Emma Swan was the one who could break her precious little curse, and ordered Killian to continue working to get in her good graces. On one hand, he was happy to do so. Miss Swan was a rather lovely looking lass, and Killian had always possessed an eye for beauty. On the other, if Storybrooke's new sheriff actually succeeded in breaking the curse, it would not do to get on the bad side of the new power in town. Killian was a pirate, after all, and pirates sailed with the wind. He wasn't prepared to abandon Cora yet; doing so would be dangerous at best and fatal at worst, but Killian believed in keeping his options open. Getting on Emma's good side—or perhaps somewhere more intimate—would serve both of his purposes.

For now, however, he would continue to do as the queen bid. She was far too tricky and too powerful to cross. He would just have to time his advances properly and make sure that the Savior never knew of his other allegiances. Getting in her good graces would ensure he was able to swap sides if he needed to, and if he could make the lass fall in love with him, so much the better. He could spend his energies on far worse pursuits.

His friendly question was rewarded with a smile. "Sure. Although I think that's 'Sheriff' now, and not 'love'," Emma pointed out cockily.

"Ah, what are titles between friends?" Killian grinned. He had always liked confidence in a woman.

"Is that what we are?" she countered quickly, her wits obviously not dulled at all by the empty glass in front of her.

"Of course," he replied, waving Ruby over with his right hand. Even though he'd woken up in Storybrooke with two working hands, the left one never quite felt right. He knew that it was Cora's doing, and Killian was not fool enough to trust such a gift, particularly when he'd never been told the price. "Bring me your finest whiskey and give our good Sheriff another of whatever she is drinking!"

Ruby grinned back at him. "Coming right up," she said with a saucy wink.

Killian returned it. Now _that _lass was a handful, and one he'd enjoyed on several occasions. Ruby—whoever she was back home—wasn't looking for attachments any more than he was, and that meant their times together were always enjoyable. _Pay attention, mate!_ he scolded himself. _Keep your eye on the target!_

While he'd been distracted, Emma had turned back to her roommate, that dumpy schoolteacher who Cora always wanted him to keep an eye on. She'd ordered him to seduce Mary Margaret boring Blanchard early in their days, and Killian had worked at that task until the stalker whom Cora had cursed into obsessing over the little teacher had tried to run him off. Then he'd cut his losses and Cora had been satisfied enough, although Killian had not enjoyed the experience. So, now he leaned in between the pair, knowing that Mary Margaret would shift away to give him space so that he could smile at Swan.

"I hear it was quite the landslide victory," he said to her, meeting her eyes as Emma turned to look at him. Ruby delivered the drinks just in time, and he raised his to her. "My congratulations."

"Thank you, Killian," the pretty blonde replied. "I do appreciate the help, whatever you did."

"I'm sure my humble contribution was hardly required at all," he said modestly. Truth be told, it hadn't been. The discovery of the asylum had done the trick, and Killian was almost annoyed by that. He'd wanted Swan to be further in his debt than she now was. "Though I was glad to do my part."

"I won't forget it," Emma promised, and Killian resisted the urge to tell her that he'd make sure of that.

Instead, he straightened, drink in hand and raising it to the other patrons pitching his voice so that he could be heard over the crowd. "I'd like to propose a toast!" he shouted. "To our new Sheriff Swan!"

"Sheriff Swan!" damn near a hundred voices echoed, and Killian met Emma's eyes before he knocked back his drink in one gulp. She matched his motion—was she _also _drinking liquor instead of beer? If so, he was fascinated already—and Killian wiggled his eyebrows at her, just enough to make her giggle.

Then, slamming his glass down on the bar, he offered her a half bow (the most a man could get away with in this world), and strode out of the diner. _Know when to draw back and make them chase you, _his brother had always told him, and Killian had distilled seduction into a fine art over the years. He permitted himself one small glance over his shoulder, just to show Swan that he was interested, and sure enough, she was still watching him and smiling.

Yes, this would work out nicely.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__So, Emma is sheriff, and Snow and Charming always seem to have a blow to the head involved somewhere in their relationship. Do tell me what you think of this chapter, particularly if you think Cora will make good on her threat to Henry and what she'll do._

_Next up: Chapter Twenty: "The Price of Victory," where Emma and Cora have another spat, Cora continues to manipulate Hook, and the Evil Queen hatches a nasty plan. Back in the past, Cora finds Regina while she, Snow, and Charming are on the run and everything starts to go wrong._


	20. Chapter 20: The Price of Victory

_**Chapter Twenty—"The Price of Victory"**_

* * *

><p>The morning after the elections found Emma with a screaming headache. She should have known that staying out and celebrating that much would be a bad idea, but she'd been so happy. It wasn't just that she'd stuck one to Cora and won the damn election that the overbearing mayor had been determined to see her lose; it was that she'd been able to show Henry that good could win sometimes. He'd been so down about Graham's accident, but the double whammy of finding the asylum and Emma's election had cheered him right up. Watching Henry celebrate—even before he got sent home and to bed—had made Emma's night, and she'd stayed up late at Granny's, teasing Mary Margaret into enjoying herself, too. She'd decided the price was worth paying the next morning, and Emma didn't quite disagree with herself now that the day had arrived.<p>

So, she pushed through the miserable morning and made it into the afternoon. Even more importantly, Emma had made sure to have the sheriff's station open on time; she wasn't going to give Cora any excuses to complain about her conduct. Hungover or not, Emma was behind her desk fifteen minutes early, sorting through the mess of paperwork that had only grown since the last time she'd been here. Keith, on the other hand, was predictably late…and even more hungover than Emma.

She thought about sending her deputy home (and what an odd thought that was; Keith worked for _her_ now). Emma wasn't entirely sure that Keith wasn't actually still drunk, but she resisted the urge to kick him out, instead telling him to take a walk before he did something stupid. She also took his car keys, which made Keith downright furious, but the idiot was well known in town for driving under the influence, and Emma was not about to let that happen on her watch. Graham had struggled to control Keith because he'd been too nice, but Emma had no problems embracing her inner bitch when the situation called for it. Her actions prompted a vicious tirade of insults from Keith, during which he told Emma she shouldn't get so comfortable in her new job, lest vaguely terrible things happen. But that just made Emma laugh. She'd been threatened by far more frightening people in her life, and Keith just wasn't that scary.

Keith stormed out, which left her with an hour or so of blissful quiet to try to make sense out of Graham's nonexistent filing system. Then Mary Margaret dropped by for an early lunch, followed none too subtly by Jefferson, who peeled off when the new sheriff gave him a hard look. By then, Emma had mostly beaten her headache into submission with coffee, water, and some painkillers, so she was happy for the company—provided her roommate left the stalker outside. So, they had a pleasant lunch before Mary Margaret headed back to school, and Emma settled in to dig further into the mess. She didn't get far, however, before then the stream of well-wishers began. Ten or fifteen people dropped by to congratulate her in the next few hours, from Ruby to David Nolan to Ashley Boyd (with baby Alexandra in tow). Emma was grateful for the attention even if it left her a little worn out; it was nice to know that this odd little town really had embraced her. She was starting to feel at home for the first time ever, and that was surprisingly…nice.

By the time Henry showed up after school, though, she was kind of glad that he wasn't another well-meaning friend.

"Everyone at school is so excited," he told her happily. "Things are changing! You won!"

His enthusiasm was hard not to catch, even with the dull roar still echoing between her ears, and Emma smiled. "I've still got a lot of work to do, kid. Graham left a lot of paperwork half-finished, and Keith didn't do any of it. I think this place is in worse shape than it was when I got fired."

"You'll fix it," he replied sunnily. "I know you will. And I know that my grandmother can't bully you into arresting people for no reason, either."

"No, she can't," Emma grimaced. _Unlike Graham, apparently._ She had known things in Storybrooke were weird, but that last bit had come as a very unwelcome surprise.

It had started, of course, with the _Daily Mirror_. Sidney had gotten himself another blockbuster headline: an exclusive interview with Michael Tillman, who told a harrowing story of having been arrested without any charges ever being filed, and then locked away for years. Frighteningly enough, _Graham _had been the one who brought Tillman to the asylum, but since the old sheriff was still in a coma, he couldn't tell anyone who had put him up to that. But everyone knew that it had to have been Cora, even if Sidney had been extremely careful not to even imply that within the article.

"You're bringing back the happy endings," Henry told her more seriously. "Ava and Nicholas are going to move in with their dad next week, right after he finds an apartment."

Skeptical about the curse or not, Emma had to smile. "That's great news."

"Yes, it is wonderful to hear that two innocent children are being given to an unstable former prisoner," a new voice said acidly, making Emma's head snap around.

"Madam Mayor," she said icily, rising.

Emma hadn't heard Cora come in, and judging from his expression, Henry hadn't, either. But she met the mayor's eyes levelly; Emma was not about to let Cora intimidate her. This woman had _far _more power than any small town mayor should, and now Emma was the sheriff. Protecting the people of Storybrooke was her job, and Emma was starting to think that they needed protecting from Cora Mills far more than they needed saving from some curse Henry had found in a book. Cora, however, was smiling.

"You should investigate that, Sheriff," she said sweetly. "It would be terrible if something happened to those poor children."

Henry bristled at her right, but Emma got in before the kid could say something they'd both regret.

"Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?" She gave the mayor a hard look.

Cora's smug expression never wavered. "I know the new job is a little overwhelming, Miss Swan, but I'm here to help. I'll be glad to give you a list of the priorities that I want you to focus on."

"I bet you would," Emma snorted, and then smiled back nastily. "I'll take it under advisement."

"You'll do more than that, _Sheriff,_" Cora snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You'll do as I say."

"She doesn't work for you," Henry got in before Emma could answer, and Cora turned her glare on her grandson.

"Stay out of adult conversations, Henry," the mayor said imperiously, and Emma watched the boy's hackles go up. "This concerns matters that you are too young to understand."

"I'm not too young to see what you're doing," Henry objected angrily. "You're trying to manipulate Emma like you manipulated Graham, but it's not going to happen. _She _won't let you control her."

"Henry—" Emma tried to get a word in to stop the idealistic ten year old from saying anything more, but Cora overrode her.

"Go home to your mother," she ordered. "I think our new sheriff is a bad influence on you."

"Nothing like _you _are," the boy retorted bitterly, reaching for his bag. He clearly knew better than to cross his adopted grandmother too far, though, because he started shoving his schoolwork into the bag with angry motions, glaring mutinously at Cora while he did so.

"That's quite enough out of you, young man," Cora snapped. "Go home. Now."

"I'm going," Henry muttered, and then stormed out, slamming the door behind himself. Emma watched him go with surprise—she'd never seen the kid like this—and waited for the inevitable explosion to come.

Cora, however, turned to her very coldly and calmly. "Stay away from my grandson, Miss Swan. I won't tell you that again."

_The hell I will._

"That's not up to you," was what Emma replied, and it was a lot nicer than what she wanted to say. After all, it wasn't like a restraining order would work this time around. Henry's parents would have to sign off on that, and Emma was sure they wouldn't.

"You'll see that it is," Cora retorted, her eyes flashing as she strode out.

Emma watched her leave, too, shaking her head and sighing to herself. Hadn't Cora figured her out at all yet? The more the mayor tried to order Emma to stay away from Henry, the more Emma wanted to stick around. Regina and David were good parents, but David was a doormat and Cora had _some _hold over Regina that made her daughter back down when Cora pushed just right. Emma didn't know how Cora managed that, but it worried her. It worried her most for the kid who'd steadily been creeping his way into her heart, but Emma was concerned for Regina, too. Regina had somehow become a friend, and Emma knew something was going on here.

One way or another, she'd get to the bottom of this.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

They'd ridden hard for hours, but horses could only last so long before taking a break. Regina supposed that there was some spell that would extend their stamina, but she didn't know it and figured such magic would come at a price she might not be willing to pay. At any rate, although Snow and James were almost as expert riders as she was (Regina had taught Snow herself, years earlier), all three of them were as ready to slow down as their horses were after several hours on the run. Regina was something of an expert on running from her mother at this point, and she knew that distance was everything. The further away from Cora they got, the harder it would be for Cora to use magic to track them. Regina would compound matters soon by going back to the palace so that Cora didn't know she'd been involved, but first she had to make sure Snow and James were safe.

Dismounting, Regina turned to look at her sister and her sister's prince. Whatever change of personality Prince James had experienced, it had clearly worked out well for him; the prince helped Snow down from her horse with a smile, and Regina recognized the look in his eyes. _It's the way I used to look at Daniel._ Pain tightened like a fist around Regina's heart; it was the way she would _still _look at Daniel if only she could see him. She'd wanted so badly to sneak down and warn him that she was going to do something her mother would hate, but Regina hadn't dared. Cora monitored Daniel's cell far more closely than she did Snow's, and she would have noticed Regina whispering secrets. So, Regina had to embark on this rescue mission without so much as seeing her True Love, and that made watching Snow and James together burn.

She didn't begrudge Snow her love. Falling in love was absolutely magical, and her baby sister deserved that, particularly after how rough the last few years of her life had been. But it did make Regina miss Daniel more than ever before. Just watching the pair smile with glowing eyes and trade secret glances was…wonderfully painful.

"You really are rather charming, aren't you?" Snow laughed.

"I try," he replied, smiling back.

"Why did you come?" Snow asked suddenly. "I know why Regina came, but why did you? If Cora finds out, she'll threaten war against your kingdom."

"You know why I came," the prince answered softly, and Regina had to turn away.

"I'm going to go look for some water for the horses," she declared, unable to watch the pair falling in love like that. Regina didn't begrudge Snow her love, but that didn't mean she wanted to stick around to watch. Not right now.

She'd barely made it three steps before Snow ran to catch up with her, calling: "Regina, wait!"

"For what? I don't think you two need a chaperone," she smiled, turning to look at her little sister.

Snow actually blushed. "Well, no, but can't I say thank you?"

"You'd never have to," Regina replied seriously, wrapping her free arm around Snow's shoulders. "You'd do the same for me."

"In a heartbeat," Snow confirmed, and the sisters hugged.

"Now, go romance your prince," Regina said in a teasing tone. "This one seems to be worth the work, and besides, you deserve some happiness after everything that's happened."

"So do you." Snow's eyes went sad, and Regina had to swallow back her pain.

"Well, some of us get there faster than others, I guess," she said around the lump in her throat.

Snow squeezed her around the waist one last time. "Things will work out for you. I know it."

"You're such an optimist," Regina grumbled good-naturedly. "You drive me insane, you know that?"

"Of course I do."

Regina shoved her away playfully. "Go to your prince. I'll go find water for the horses and use magic to cover our trail."

"Do you think Queen Cora can track us?" James asked as Regina and Snow both turned back towards him. "I know you said that teleporting away would give us a head start, but if she can follow us, anyway…"

"I won't lie to you," Regina said bluntly. "My mother is powerful and knowledgeable. If anyone _can _track us, it's her, but I'll do everything I can to keep her from finding you. I'll even see if I can't teleport you further towards your kingdom before I go home."

"You're going back?" James echoed in surprise, but Snow only looked resigned. Snow knew Regina, and they both knew what she had to.

"It's the best way to distract her."

"Will you be safe doing that?" the prince asked next, making Regina blink. _Where _did _George's arrogant and self-centered son go? He's completely different now, _she thought to herself. This was hardly the time to ask what had made James change so much, but she was still curious. Being concerned for others hadn't seemed to be Prince James' strong suit the first few times Regina and Snow had met him, although he appeared perfectly sincere today.

Regina shrugged as casually as she could. "I'll be fine. But…speaking of things happening, if you _do _need help when I can't be here, call on Rumplestiltskin."

"The Dark One?" James asked immediately, and Regina felt her eyebrows go up in surprise. She hadn't expected George's son to know of him at all.

"Yes," she replied. "He's…well, something of a friend. But he enjoys tweaking Mother's tail, and he's the only person I know who doesn't fear her at all. He'll make you pay a price for it, but if you need help, he can do it."

"Right." Snow nodded decisively. "Okay. You do what you have to, Regina, so we can keep moving."

Nodding, Regina led her borrowed horse deeper into the woods. She didn't dislike the black gelding that they'd rented from a post house, but he wasn't _her _horse and she missed her own Lightning. But it had been easier to have horses waiting in the predetermined location than to try to teleport herself, James, Snow _and _three horses, so she had to make do. Besides, it didn't matter. She'd be leaving this horse with Snow and James as a spare when she teleported herself back to the palace, so not getting attached was probably a good idea.

A flick of her hand and a moment's concentration sent a spell racing out a head of her; Regina wasn't an expert at using magic to find things, by any means, but locating water should be fairly simple. The gelding jerked up short a step, staring at her with wide brown eyes, and Regina had to stop to soothe him. The poor horse obviously wasn't used to magic, and she supposed she couldn't blame him. Post horses didn't usually carry sorceresses around, after all, and Regina took a few moments to calm the spooked gelding down. After doing so, she continued leading him through the trees, following the slight glowing trail that her spell left behind. _ I used to hate magic, _she reflected as she walked. _And now look at me. I even think of myself as a sorceress._ The world was full of ironies, she supposed, but after watching her mother use magic to hurt people for so many years, Regina was growing even more determined to use it to _help _people. People like Snow, who had suffered because her mother hated Snow's mother for some reason that hadn't mattered in decades.

"There you are, darling," that hated voice purred, making Regina stumble and then whirl in surprise. "I was getting _so _worried."

"Mother?" she yelped without meaning to, and the black gelding jerked his head away from her as magic filled the area around them, boxing Regina in and keeping her from teleporting away.

"Of course. Were you expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone," she tried to say without showing her worry. Was Snow okay? Had her mother already sent people after her? Regina had no way to know, but if she could keep Cora busy, maybe Snow and James could escape. "I was just out for a ride—"

"Don't lie to me, Regina," Cora cut her off, sounding far less angry than Regina had expected. In fact, her tone was almost conversational. "You know what a terrible idea that is."

"I wasn't," she tried to object, but it sounded weak even to Regina's ears.

Cora gave her a hard look, and Regina could read the danger in her mother's dark eyes. "I would be heartbroken if you tried to leave, sweetheart. After all, I'm not the only one waiting at home for you."

"No one's waiting for me. You've seen to that," Regina snapped before she could stop herself.

"Is that so?" Cora cocked her head, but it was her slight smile that sent an ominous chill down Regina's spine. Before she could say a word—before she could contemplate apologizing, groveling, or starting a fight—Cora waved her right hand, and Daniel appeared in a swirl of purple smoke.

Squinting in the sunlight, Daniel staggered slightly, looking shocked to be outside his cell for the first time in ten years. But his eyes found Regina almost immediately, and they were barely ten feet apart. For the first time in a decade, there was nothing between them: no bars, no chains, and nothing to hold them apart. Regina wasn't sure if she moved first or Daniel did, but two steps later, they threw themselves into the others' arms. Every envious thought Regina had for her younger sister and James vanished; she was holding onto Daniel, and for that one short moment, everything was perfect. Daniel was there, he was real, and she was never going to let go of him again. Their kiss was as inevitable as it was powerful, and for the first time, Regina felt power rushing through her bones.

_True Love is the most powerful magic of all, _Rumplestiltskin had taught her, and Regina could _feel _it now. Magic reared to life within her, glowing and powerful and perfect. Its power made a wonderful chill run through her, and for one short moment, everything was perfect and Regina could believe that everything might just turn out all right. She had never been powerful enough, never enough in tune with magic, to feel this sheer _love _sweeping through her, but the longer she held onto Daniel, the stronger it got.

"I love you," she whispered, cradling Daniel's face in her hands and smiling so hard that her face hurt.

She could hear joy in his laugh, the first joy she had heard from her True Love since Cora had locked him away. His eyes were shining. "I love you, too."

Daniel leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, and Regina had forgotten how wonderful this was. The world seemed unimportant; even her mother's presence could not dim her happiness. Regina didn't know why Cora had chosen to free Daniel like this, but at the moment she couldn't care. She had missed him so much, missed him like a lost limb, like the other half of her heart. Their stolen moments were not enough, but this, _this _was real. This was everything she had ever dreamed of, this was the life that Cora had torn away from her ten years earlier. This was what she needed, what Regina had told herself she could no longer have…and yet here she was, wrapped in Daniel's arms and feeling whole for the first time in forever.

"That's quite enough," Cora said sharply, but Regina ignored her mother.

"You look terrible," she whispered, finally focusing on how pale and thin Daniel's face was. It was always hard to make out the finer points of his features while down in the dungeons, and he truly looked awful. Not that she cared. Regina felt herself go red as Daniel let out a short laugh. "I mean—not in a bad way. Just that you look, um, pale and—"

"You look beautiful," Daniel cut her off, and they kissed again.

Power sizzled through Regina's veins, until suddenly her lips met air. Off balance, Regina stumbled, almost toppling forward until she caught herself, whirling to face her mother as the swirl of purple magic dissipated. Daniel had been swept away from her and deposited on his knees a few feet behind her mother.

"Mother!" Regina cried, her hands still grasping at empty air.

Cora cocked her head at her, her lips pursed primly. "Yes, dear?"

"Why are you doing this?" Regina demanded, starting forward, only to run into an invisible wall.

She struggled pointlessly for several seconds before remembering her training, and Regina forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. _You could be more powerful than your mother, if only you would let yourself, _Rumplestiltskin had told her more than once. Overall, Regina preferred using brute force to subtlety, but she _did _know how to unravel spells. And this one wasn't particularly hard; a moment's concentration showed Regina that it was hastily put together, the product of a spell book instead of a sorcerer's own mind. Cora often used such spells because the price was less, her daughter knew, but the book was a crutch. A shortcut. Just like her mother, Regina had been taught to do better than that—so she focused, reached out with her hands, and _pulled _the appropriate threads of magic.

The holding spell fell apart around her, and Regina rushed to Daniel's side, shoving past her mother as Cora let out a soft exclamation of surprise. Dropping to her knees at Daniel's side, Regina reached out to touch his face with one hand and grabbed his left hand with the other. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," her love replied, sounding a little breathless.

"Rumple _is _teaching you well, isn't he?" Cora purred, turning to face them. It was amazing how her mother could look like everything was going her way, even when her spell had just been deconstructed by her daughter. But Cora still looked the perfect part of the queen, and the crowd on her head was not even slightly askew.

Regina glared. "You have no idea."

"Oh, darling, I'm so proud of you. You're turning into quite the sorceress," was the too-sweet reply. Then Cora's voice dropped dangerously. "Although it seems as if I will have to impart a few lessons of my own."

Magic raced out, brilliant black and purple twisting together, a pair of dark spells that tore the lovers apart and smashed Regina into the ground on her side. Crying out, she wasted precious moments pushing the magic aside, only to realize that most of the hurtful, hateful magic had not been aimed at her. Even as she struggled to her feet, with her head spinning and her heart pounding, she realized that Daniel had been yanked six feet into the air. She reached for his ankle—it was all she could get to—but a second explosion of power shoved her backwards, and Regina barely stayed on her feet.

Daniel screamed in pain.

"_Mother!_" Regina howled. "Stop this! Please!"

Cora waved a hand to silence Daniel, but the pain was still evident on his drawn and pale face. "Stop what, dear? Teaching you a lesson?"

"I know you're angry with me, but _please_," she begged. "Don't hurt Daniel. It's not his fault."

"No, it's your fault," her mother replied coldly. "And it is time you learned the price of defying me."

"Mother—"

A second scream from Daniel cut her off, and then Cora stepped close to Regina. Revulsion twisted up in her stomach, making her feel sick—she couldn't keep her eyes off of Daniel—but she didn't back away. Instinct told Regina that doing so would only make things worse. Another flick of Cora's fingers silenced the former stable boy, while her other hand reached out to take Regina by the chin, forcing her head around so that she faced her mother.

"Now, you are welcome to go join your beloved stepsister and her foolish prince. I will destroy them at my leisure." Cora shrugged. "But if you _are _foolish enough to choose Snow over your true family, Daniel will die for it."

"You can't," Regina whispered.

"I _can_, and I will. Don't test me, darling."

Her fingers twitched, and Daniel screamed a third time.

* * *

><p>"There's a phone call for you, Captain," his assistant said as he walked through the door, and Killian smiled. His staff at the Magical Marina were used to his foibles, and Cyril O'Malley had demanded that they call him Captain for as long as he'd own the place—which, of course, was as long as any of them could remember. Killian actually did act as captain for the tall ship that served as Storybrooke's premier dinner cruise and nautical tour ship, so the title wasn't undeserved. <em>Besides, it's not like I would have let anyone else sail the <em>Jolly Roger, _even if it is just catering to tourists and couples looking for romance, _he thought behind an affable smile. Cora had told him more than once to be grateful that she'd let his beloved ship come through at all, but Killian still wished she'd allowed the _Jolly Roger _a more noble purpose.

_No pirates here in Storybrooke_, he thought wryly, and smiled at his assistant. She was a handsome woman, the daughter of some minor noble back home, and 'Cyril' had slept with her more than once. She was adventurous and daring, just his type, and they always had fun together. "Do I?"

"It's the mayor. She called five minutes ago, but she said she'd wait."

"Well, that's uncommonly kind of her," Killian said with a wink, and then ducked into his private office, keeping the smile in place until he was alone.

Sighing, Killian sat down behind his desk and took a moment to compose himself. Whatever Cora wanted, he doubted it was just to chat. She always had a motive, the queen did, and sometimes he regretted having tied himself to her so thoroughly. But he'd wanted to win, and Cora was clearly the victor here, so Killian latched himself onto her rising star and rode it to the top with her. Steeling himself, he picked up the phone and tried to sound properly subservient. It was not a tone he wore well.

"What can I do for you, Madam Mayor?" he asked congenially.

"No good morning for me, Cyril?" He could hear her laughing on the other end. "How terribly rude of you."

"Ah, you just caught me at a bad moment, love," Killian replied, hating the way she used his false first name.

"Of course I did."

He hated her mocking voice. Killian hated _her, _though, so he supposed that should not be a surprise. Cora never called unless she wanted something, and he rather suspected that this call was not designed simply to check on his progress with the lovely sheriff.

"Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? I do have a business to run, you realize."

"Put your affairs on hold," Cora commanded. "I have a job for you."

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

"I can't fight her!"

The words were a wail; Regina had appeared, strode across the great hall, and then exploded with pain. Rumplestiltskin had been there to greet her, of course, because he always greeted his student when she arrived. But he had not expected this. He didn't exactly keep tabs on Cora or the various miseries that she'd doled out, but he did know that his former lover had forced her stepdaughter to kill her second husband. He'd even known that before Regina came to him, full of a fiery desire to save her beloved stepsister, the one person in the world—aside from her already doomed True Love—who had shown her love and affection since her father's death. Regina had, predictably, saved Snow, and not too long ago if Rumplestiltskin's instincts were correct.

That did not, however, explain her presence here. Or now. So, the Dark One blinked at his student, fidgeting slightly as pain and magic rolled off of Regina in waves. He wasn't sure what to say, or even what she was so upset about. Oh, he could probably guess, knowing Cora as he did, but…

"Can't fight who, dearie?" he asked, even though he knew what the answer had to be.

"My mother," Regina sobbed, turning to face him, her arms wrapped tightly around her body and tears rolling down her face. "She hurt Daniel to make me go back with her."

"Did you expect she'd do something else?" The question came out before Rumplestiltskin could stop himself, and Regina flinched.

"I didn't—I didn't—" she stuttered, and the words cut off in a sob. Her head dropped and Regina let go of all pretense of self-control, just breaking down and crying.

Tentatively, Rumplestiltskin stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm, finally realizing that she didn't want someone to tell her that Cora was a terrible person or that she could have done anything differently. Regina had just come to him because she had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. That realization hit him about the same time she suddenly turned to him and buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing wildly. And what was _he _supposed to do with a heartbroken princess who wanted to cry her heart out on his shoulder? He was the Dark One, not her father or… Her friend. Yes, Rumplestiltskin supposed that he was Regina's friend.

Awkwardly, Rumplestiltskin reached up to pat Regina on the back, listening to her sobs and wishing he knew how to offer the right kind of comfort. But it had been years since he'd been close to anyone—the last person had been Cora—and Rumplestiltskin was so very terrible at this. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just patted her on the back and let her cry.

* * *

><p>Cora hung up the phone, smiling. Hook would wiggle and moan, but he would do her bidding in the end, and a plan was already forming in her mind. The boy was a nuisance, and his birth mother even more so. Cora prided herself on not making decisions in anger, but this one had been stewing for weeks now, ever since Miss Swan had first stood up to her and refused to leave town. Cora was accustomed to power, and she <em>didn't <em>like it when people in her town disobeyed her. But she could have dealt with that had Emma Swan not decided to make herself sheriff.

The election hadn't even been close. Keith Law was well known for his brutish tendencies, for stalking women—Lacey French had even accused him of attempted rape once, although Cora had made sure those charges didn't stick—for bending the law, and for being a general public menace when driving drunk. Keith would make a terrible sheriff for Storybrooke, but that shouldn't have mattered. Cora's desires should have been enough to make it so, which she'd counted on ever since using Graham's heart to cause that accident. She'd contemplated killing the former sheriff, but in the end was rather pleased to find that her Huntsman had survived. Cora always disliked admitting, even to herself, that she had allowed her anger to get the better of her, but the Huntsman's budding relationship with the Savior had spurred her into action.

_The Savior._ Cora felt her lips twisting up into a snarl, but could do nothing to stop them. Snow's little daughter had survived her supposed death before the curse after all. _Eva's granddaughter_. The thought was a snarl in her mind. Eva's bloodline had somehow escaped her ultimate vengeance, had escaped to put its spawn inside _Cora's _family. Out of all the children that Regina could have adopted, Gold had found Eva's great-grandson, and Cora could have killed him for that. _Save that revenge for later, _she told herself. She had ways to make Gold pay, plenty of them. But Gold must have done it unknowingly; there was no other explanation. He'd been under the curse when Cora had tasked him with finding Regina a child, and Cora knew the difference. No, Gold wasn't the problem. Cora's daughter was.

And so was Cora's so-called grandson. _Henry _had found the book. He must have been sharing that knowledge with his birth mother, and egging her on towards breaking the curse. _And Regina. Regina has been helping them._ Cora snarled out loud.

It wasn't the first time her daughter had chosen the wrong side, not the first time that Regina had chosen Snow over her mother. _Ungrateful girl. She should know better by now. _But Cora would have to deal with that later. First, she needed to get rid of Emma Swan, and she knew far too well that she could not kill someone who was meant to break the curse, not without breaking her own power over Storybrooke. That, of course, was something Cora had no intention of doing, which meant she had to encourage Emma Swan to leave Storybrooke. The first step to that, of course, had been the threats she had thrown at the brash young sheriff the day before. She knew well enough that demanding that Emma stay away from Henry was tantamount to ensuring that Snow's daughter would stick to the boy like glue, and that was exactly what Cora wanted.

Taking Henry out of the equation would get rid of the problem. He was the anchor holding Emma Swan to Storybrooke. All Cora had to do was cut that loose…and Emma Swan would no longer want to stay. There was only one way to do that, of course. She had to kill him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Cora has a plan, she just slid the last piece into place, and poor Hook is her pawn to execute it. After all, who needs a mine explosion when you can have a fire?_

_Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-One: "Players and Pawns," in which Hook does Cora's dirty work, Henry visits the library, Regina runs into Errol again, and disaster strikes. Back in the past, Hook falls in with the Evil Queen._

_I've also updated a character cheat sheet under my other stories for all those characters who have cursed names that are hard to keep track of. If anyone is interested in me adding a timeline of all the events shown in flashbacks, I can also do that._


	21. Chapter 21: Players and Pawns

_**Questions to Answer:**_

_Is Baelfire/Neal Henry's dad?__ He certainly is. Nothing changed that, and he'll be coming to Storybrooke sooner than anyone expects._

_Why didn't Cora kill Regina already?__ Cora wants her daughter to be like her. She's not immortal, and she wants to leave a mark on the world, and that includes a powerful daughter who can step into her shoes. Unfortunately, Regina's proving less and less likely to do that, which does put her in danger._

_When will Leroy be back?__ Good question. I'm not sure, but I'll try to make it soon._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Twenty-One—"Players and Pawns"<strong>_

* * *

><p>The instructions Cora gave him were explicit, but Killian didn't like them one bit. Still, the Evil Queen must have seen the frown on his face, because she cocked her head at him and asked: "Is there a problem, Captain?"<p>

"Oh, of course not," Killian growled. "Arson's one of my favorite hobbies, love."

"You're a pirate," Cora sneered. "Stop complaining and do as you're told."

The threat in her voice was impossible to miss, and Killian had learned not to cross Cora the hard way. _Several times, as a matter of fact. _No matter how many times he tried to hedge his bets, Killian knew that he was stuck. He spoke stiffly: "And I think that we both know I am always at your service, Your Majesty."

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten," she replied, her tone deceptively mild. But Killian could hear the threat there, too, and he had no desire to repeat the lessons in loyalty that Cora had taught him. Once, he'd thought that retaining his memories while no one else did would give him an advantage. Now he was beginning to understand that was a curse in itself.

"I would never do such a thing," he reassured the Evil Queen, and _that _was no lie. His brother had not raised him to be a fool, and Killian could always tell which way the wind blew. _A downright tempest, favoring her._

"Excellent. Then you will obey my commands, of course?"

In private, Cora rarely bothered with the fiction that she was the mayor requesting a favor from a friend. No, in private she was the queen and he her servant; no threadbare or even imaginary freedoms existed for Killian Jones—or Cyril O'Malley—in this supposedly free world. He had never expected it to be like this, but it wasn't as though Killian hadn't known he was allying with the villain of the piece. But life had taught him that villains _won_, which was why he'd chosen to abandon honor and become a pirate in the first place. Honor had brought him nothing but pain, and Killian wanted victory and revenge. Perhaps then he might chase some sort of happy ending, but these days only the villains got those, too, so he was on the right track.

"Has the library offended you in some way?" he had to ask. "You do realize that you might burn down that entire side of the street before the fire department gets there."

Cora shrugged. "It can be rebuilt. Just be certain to block the exits and light the fire when I have specified."

"Of course," Killian promised, ignoring the way his stomach rolled in disgust. He didn't ask her who she planned to burn to death inside the library. He didn't want to know. "Four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. It will be done."

"I am always glad to have you on my side, Captain," Cora said with another of her dangerous smiles, and Killian got out of her presence as soon as good manners would let him. Cora had seemed so much less terrifying in the beginning. What _had _he gotten himself into?

* * *

><p><span><em>6 Months Before the Curse<em>

It had started off so simply. Who better than a pirate to find a lost treasure? When the then-powerful Evil Queen had sent Captain Hook after the lost treasure of Oak Island, a mythical place that some called Treasure Island, he had thought that the reward was more than worth the work. He'd find the treasure for her, get the mythical sword she promised him, and then finally be able to take his revenge against the Dark One. The job had been anything but simple—hundreds of pirates had died trying to reach Oak Island, but he was Captain Hook. His crew had survived nearly three centuries in Neverland, and his ship was the fastest pirate ship on the seven seas. Anything they couldn't outrun, they could outfight, and he would pit his crew against any two pirate ships you cared to name. They had only been back in the Enchanted Forest a few years, but the _Jolly Roger _was already a legend. Queen Cora had been right to call upon them to do the impossible.

The _Jolly Roger _wasn't the first ship Cora had hired, rumors said, but the others fell prey to various dangers along the way. But Hook's crew wasn't just any pirate crew, and they knew how to get a job done, despite attacks from two different sea monsters, a trio of sirens, storms that would have ripped a less magical ship apart, and a myriad of other dangers. They made it through, battered and damaged, only to face a prolonged battle with Long John Silver himself. _Impossible, _other pirate captains had called this quest, and that was the exact word that Silver used to describe his own defeat. Hook had enjoyed proving him wrong.

Unfortunately for Hook, he hadn't expected the impossible to take a bit under two years, and by the time the _Jolly Roger _made port again in Cora's kingdom, the entire political landscape had changed. Now her hated stepdaughter was in power, and Killian was smart enough to guess that Queen Snow and King James were not in the market for the same sort of magical trinkets that an evil sorceress was. He and his mates spent several long days debating just what they should do with the treasure in the _Jolly Roger's _hold, and many of the crew were in favor of selling it themselves without ever speaking to the now-exiled queen. But none of them were terribly serious in that respect; they all had too much experience with Pan. Sorcerers of any type were dangerous and vindictive, and that meant that breaking their end of the deal was unwise. Cora had paid well for their services, after all, and they were owed still more gold in addition to their share of the treasure. So, Hook set out to find Cora in her isolated fortress, certain that a sorceress-queen would not be utterly without resources.

Besides, he _needed_ the Sword of Peleus, and how was he to differentiate the lone magical sword in the lot from the other two dozen included with the treasure? He needed Cora to do that, because the Sword of Peleus didn't just make its bearer victorious in battle (an edge any pirate worth his sails coveted); it would also slay all matter of demons, and Hook had just the demon in mind to test that legend out.

"Captain," a familiar voice purred as he cooled his heels in a posh sitting room. Exiled or no, the Evil Queen seemed to be doing quite well for herself. Hook spun to face her, bowing as one would to a ruling queen and not an exile. After all, it never paid to antagonize a sorceress when you didn't need to. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to return."

There was an edge in her voice that Hook did not appreciate. He straightened. "Given how no one else you sent after that treasure returned at all, I would appreciate a little more in the way of thanks."

Dark eyes flashed, and was it his imagination, or had the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees?

"Have you the treasure, then, or are you here to report your failure?" Cora snapped.

"Oh, I've the treasure, love. Safe and sound, as requested." He met her eyes boldly, and saw a slight smile work its way onto the Evil Queen's face. She was a woman, after all, and one with a reputation for enjoying handsome men at that.

"Excellent. Where is it?"

"On my ship, where your, uh, stepdaughter's customs inspectors will never find it," Hook replied, watching rage flicker across her expression before being suppressed. _Oh, that's a sore spot, isn't it?_

"You've done well, Captain," the Evil Queen said more congenially, stepping forward to close the distance between them.

Hook studied her contemplatively in the silence. She was a handsome woman, despite being (physically, anyway), old enough to be his mother. Very well put together, and very self-assured for someone who had been defeated by her stepdaughter and a rag-tag army of dwarves, fairies, and peasants. Cora was obviously doing well in her exile, too; Hook was quite certain that the young Queen Snow would not be happy to know that there was a small but professional army gathering on the grounds of her stepmother's castle. Defeated or not, Cora was clearly still a power to be reckoned with, and Hook was willing to bet that she had a plan of some sort. She didn't strike him as the type of woman who ever stopped plotting.

"And our deal?" he asked when she said nothing else.

Cora smiled. "I will help you identify this magical weapon you seek, as we agreed upon," she replied airily. "Provided, of course, it is not the one piece of the treasure that I seek."

"And what's that?" Hook asked warily.

"Oh, it's hardly something that would interest a pirate," she said with an air of exaggerated innocence, and Hook started to worry.

"What is it?" he pressed.

Cora cocked her head at him, and then finally answered: "The chain of Gleipnir, of course. I doubt you've heard of it."

"The only chain in any world that can bind any magical being or creature, forged by the dwarves of old out of six impossible things and utterly unbreakable?" he countered immediately, flashing her a smile. "I'm rather more educated than your average pirate, love."

"Indeed you are." She sounded pleased, and Hook wasn't certain if that should worry him or not. Still, it was best to grab this bull by the horns, because sooner or later Cora would find out for herself.

"It's not there."

"I beg your pardon?" That seemed to bring her up short, and the queen blinked in surprise.

"I would have noticed. It's not there," he said bluntly.

Her eyes narrowed ominously. "And why would _you _have noticed?" she snarled.

"Because I've been looking for something like that for centuries." Hook shrugged. "I've more interesting enemies than your average pirate as well."

"I can see that." Was that approval in Cora's voice? It was so very hard to tell. Then she pursed her lips contemplatively. "Would this enemy be Rumplestiltskin?"

Had she struck him with magic, Hook could not have been more shocked. Just _hearing _the name of the demon who had killed Milah was enough to make his temper roar in his ears, and he felt his one fist clench in rage. Three centuries in Neverland had not been enough to erase the pain; nothing ever would. Even revenge would never be enough, but he owed Milah that much, and more.

"How did you know that?" he demanded, taking a step towards her. His hook came up without so much as a thought, but Cora only smiled and pushed it away with one manicured finger before he could really threaten her.

"I was his student once," she admitted. "He told me a great many things."

"Is that so?" The words grated out of him like cold iron.

Cora laughed. "Oh, relax, Captain. Rumplestiltskin and I are hardly friends these days. In fact, I might be able to help you with your quest for vengeance."

"How?"

* * *

><p>"I think more cookies might be bad for you," the ten year old told the three year old seriously as Lacey rolled a ladder over to one of the nearby shelves. Renee, of course, gave Henry a dubious look, which made the library's sole patron glance up at Lacey.<p>

"Henry's right, angel," she replied, climbing the ladder with her arms full of books. Lacey didn't bother looking down, and balancing on precariously high heels never bothered her one bit, either. She'd been working in the library for practically forever, and Lacey had never once fallen. This was just a part of her everyday life, just like keeping one eye on her toddler and the other eye on her books was. The mayor could complain all day long about Lacey bringing her daughter to work, but there was nothing in her contract that expressly forbade Lacey from doing so, and besides, daycare was expensive.

"One more?" Renee pleaded, and Lacey managed not to laugh.

"They're all gone," Henry pointed out practically, and Renee sniffled in the pouty way only a three year old could.

"And we're not going upstairs to get more, either," she told her daughter, starting to put books back on the shelves. The high schoolers who had departed a half an hour earlier had left a bit of a mess in their wake, which meant there were plenty of heavy reference books to put away. "That'll spoil your dinner," she told her daughter over a volume of the _Encyclopædia Britannica. _

"Poo," was Renee's response, and now Lacey _really _had to hold back a giggle. She was supposed to be the firm parent here, and she couldn't laugh when her three year old used words she wasn't supposed to. Henry, however, did not manage the same kind of decorum, and he snickered.

"Renee," Lacey chided her daughter. "No using those words."

"Poo!" the three year old replied cheerfully, and now Henry was shaking with laughter. Lacey twisted to point a finger at him.

"You're not helping!" she told the ten year old sternly. "Aren't you supposed to be working on a school project?"

At least Henry had the good grace to look a little ashamed. "Renee's helping me?" the boy tried for an excuse.

"Oh, I bet she is," Lacey replied dryly, rolling her eyes. Not that she wasn't grateful that Henry was happy to sit on the floor and play with Renee when he was between research topics, but she didn't want the spirited boy encouraging Renee _too _much. Or at least not to say words like "poo." Overall, Henry was a really good kid, and Lacey figured that Renee could have a lot worse role models.

_Like Henry's horrible grandmother, _she thought to herself, putting the last volume of the encyclopedia on the shelf with a grimace. The mayor hadn't been by the library since she'd tried to threaten Lacey for giving Henry a book, but she still gave Lacey the creeps. And even Gold was afraid of her—Gold, who wasn't afraid of anyone or anything. Cora Mills was not the sort of woman that Lacey wanted her little girl to grow into, and she was always glad to see that Henry seemed to take more after his adopted father than his adopted grandmother.

"Do you mind if I take this book home, Miss French?" Henry asked, turning an innocent look on her that Lacey _knew _he hadn't learned from anyone in his adopted family. "I think that my dad would like it."

Stepping off the ladder, Lacey peered around the circulation desk to look at the book in Henry's hands. It was a book on swordsmanship and the history of swords—obviously the kind of book that would interest a ten year old, though not really the type that David Nolan would be in to. "Sure, Henry," she replied with a smile, deciding not to call him on the white lie. "As long as you check it out properly and bring it back in two weeks."

"Can I fill out the checkout sheet?" The boy hopped to his feet with a grin.

"Go ahead. Just don't let Renee write on it, please."

"Awesome!"

Throwing one more glance at her daughter—who was engrossed in her blocks again and had already forgotten that she wanted another cookie—Lacey headed over to fetch the next stack of books that needed filing. Meanwhile, Henry bent over the circulation desk and started filling out the details from the front flap of the book. Grabbing the next stack of reference books, most of which were additional heavy volumes of the _Encyclopædia Britannica, _Lacey didn't bother to give Henry more than a glance. He always liked checking his own books out like this, and she'd been letting him do it for several months. Henry's handwriting might have been that of a ten year old, but—

"What's that smell?" Henry asked suddenly, and Lacey paused on the first step of the ladder.

"What smell?" she asked reflexively, before she had even drawn a deep breath.

"It smells like smoke!"

* * *

><p>He'd be damned if he was going to do this in any way that would point fingers in his direction. Killian might be stuck following Cora's orders—and even with Graham out of commission, he knew there was no escaping her, lest she decide to use her curse against him to make his life even <em>more <em>miserable—but he certainly wasn't going to go play the part of her fall guy. Cora was welcome to pin this one someone else. Killian was going to make sure he had a solid alibi.

It had been depressingly easy to lock the doors of the library from the outside. Cora's skeleton keys were useful for that, and while he'd contemplated bribing one of the departing high school students to do it—as a prank, of course—Killian had decided to do the job himself in the end. Instead, he'd tasked one of the kids with starting a small scuffle in the street, which had kept anyone from noticing the way a certain marina owner quietly locked the library doors and flipped the sign to closed. Cora wanted whoever was inside to stay inside, and _he _didn't want anyone else to wander into the conflagration he was about to cause. So, Killian used the kids, two of which worked for him at the marina after school, to stage a bit of an argument in the street in front of Storybrooke Coffee. That pulled all eyes away from the library, and when Doctor Hopper came down to break it up, everyone started paying attention to him.

He waited until the crowd dissipated to duck around the library and light the old-fashioned fuse he'd laid the night before. Doing so had made Killian lose more sleep than he might have liked, but he'd used the skeleton keys to get into the library and to place a few oil-soaked rags in strategic locations, mostly behind bookshelves. He'd been particularly careful to put one line of fuses near the doors and windows; Cora was particular about not wanting anyone to escape this fire, so Hook planned for the fire to start in multiple places. After all, there was plenty of fuel for the fire, and once it got started…

Still, he wasn't an idiot, and using an old fashioned fuse that he'd cut himself meant two things. Firstly, Hook knew the material used in the fuse would burn up with the library. Secondly—and far more important—he knew that he had exactly five minutes from lighting it to when the sparks reached the first bunch of rags. That gave him enough time to get down the street to Granny's, and just enough time to have an order in before people started noticing. Ruby obligingly came over right away, and Hook shot her a sultry smile as he ordered the daily special, ignoring any pangs of his conscience.

He didn't care who was inside. Really, he didn't.

He couldn't afford to.

* * *

><p>Regina hadn't meant to run into the man whose child she had saved several weeks earlier, but once little Jamie Forrester waved at her, she was done for. The cute little boy pointed her out to his father, who promptly hefted Jamie in his arms and crossed the street—looking out for Deputy Law's truck as he did so, undoubtedly—with a smile on his face.<p>

"Jamie wanted to say hi," he said by way of greeting, and the grin the child turned on Regina could make any mother melt.

"Well, hello then," she replied with a smile of her own to Jamie. Regina didn't mean to meet Errol Forrester's eyes after doing so, but something inside her fluttered when she did so. The distinct feeling of something _clicking _into place echoed through her soul. Something she hadn't felt in a long time.

_No. _She had to ignore this feeling, whatever it was. Regina knew that—it was why she'd refused to ask Rumplestiltskin who this handsome firefighter really was. She had work to do, a niece to protect, and a curse to break. Anything else could wait until later. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get involved with someone who didn't know who they were! No matter how drawn to him she was, she had to stay away. It was the only sensible thing to do, and besides, she couldn't afford the distraction.

"Jamie and I were about to go get some ice cream," Errol told her, oblivious to Regina's internal conflict. "Would you like to join us?"

"I shouldn't…" But she wanted to. Oh, Regina wanted to.

"C'mon. It's just ice cream," Errol goaded her with a grin. "I'm hardly going to endanger your virtue with my four year old along."

The blunt words startled a laugh out of Regina; she'd always liked straightforward men, and Errol seemed honest to a fault. She knew she shouldn't, but her mouth was open to accept the invitation when someone cried out from further down the street. The Forresters had caught Regina in front of Standard Clocks while she was on her way to pick up Henry from the library, but now as she looked across the street, smoke billowed out of that very same library, black and already thick enough already to obscure the clock tower.

"What the…?" Errol started to whisper, but words utterly escaped Regina. All she could do was stare in growing horror, with her mother's words echoing through her mind.

"_Ah, but that doesn't protect Henry, now, does it?"_ Cora had said oh so coldly, and even as Regina stared blankly at now-burning library, she knew that this was her punishment. This was her mother's way of reminding Regina that those she loved would never be safe, not if she dared move against Cora in any way. Errol was saying something to her, but Regina stood numbly and stupidly, coldness seeping into her bones and making her as immobile as a statue. But then realization hit hard, and Regina had never been the type of woman who sat still and waited for someone else to save her. _And I won't let Mother hurt Henry without a fight, either!_ She started forward without even thinking, until a hard hand on her arm jerked her up short.

"Regina!" Errol finally reached out to shake her with one hand, and she turned to look at him with wide eyes.

"Let go of me!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his grip on her arm hard enough to hurt. Regina didn't notice.

"Henry's in there!" she retorted, panic making her voice go high.

Horror crossed Errol's face, and he nodded grimly. "Then take Jamie. Please."

"What—why?" She was about to go into a fire. Why would he want her to take his child?

"Because this is my job," the man she barely knew answered bluntly. "Keep my son safe for me while I go rescue yours."

"I—"

Errol shoved Jamie into her arms before Regina could say more, and sprinted towards the library. There wasn't a fire truck in sight, and Regina could barely hear sirens coming towards them in the distance, but she suddenly understood that Errol Forrester wasn't the type to care about that. He saw people in danger, and he rushed in to rescue them. Wooden legs carried Regina forward as a crowd started to gather around her; Jamie Forrester was strangely quiet in her arms, but her numbness was wearing off. He was trusting her, Regina realized, this man who had met her all of twice. He was trusting her to keep Jamie safe while he rushed into a burning building. And she didn't even know who he really was.

"The doors are locked!" someone shouted from closer to the library. Was that Ruby, the young werewolf who Snow and Charming had befriended so long ago?

"Get me an axe, wet blankets, anything you've got!" Errol ordered several other people, snagging a baseball bat from a passing student. He stepped up to one of the windows while the student yelped, smashing the baseball bat into the glass.

The window gave with a loud _crash_, and flames leapt out.

* * *

><p>"The back door is locked, too!"<p>

Lacey pushed her way through two bookshelves, coughing as the smoke grew thicker and thicker. She'd shoved Henry and Renee down behind the circulation desk and told them to stay low, knowing that keeping them near the front door was the safest place for them. But the fire had spread to the front of the library with terrifying speed, and now nowhere at all was safe. She'd braved the flames—and gotten her left hand burned in the process—to try the back door, but no matter how hard she'd pushed, it had refused to budge. Someone had locked it from the outside, and Lacey had no chance of breaking it down before smoke overcame her. So, she rushed her way back to the front of the library, blinking in the thick and stinging smoke, hoping against hope that someone would have gotten the front doors open by the time she got there.

But the doors were still shut, and Henry was trying bravely to shield a crying Renee from the worst of the smoke. The flames hadn't reached behind the desk yet, but they were getting closer, and Lacey knew there wasn't time to waste. Not when Henry was starting to look at her with panicked eyes, too. She had two children to protect, and almost no way to keep them safe. There were too many flames between her and the windows; even if Lacey had some way to break them, she couldn't think of a way to get the children through. But there was one place—

"What do we do?" Henry coughed.

"This way!" Lacey made the decision even as the words came out, leaning down to wrap one arm around Renee and take hold of Henry with the other hand. The ten year old followed her willingly to the only place that seemed even remotely safe: the broken elevator that was blocked off by a small bookshelf that was thankfully only smoldering, not burning yet.

Shoving the bookshelf out of the way, Lacey shoved Henry into the elevator before ducking in herself. The small compartment was thankfully smoke free, although it was growing awfully hot. Lacey knew that the last place you were supposed to go during a fire was an elevator, but where else could she go? There was nowhere else in the library that was even remotely safe, and Lacey was out of options. So, she held her crying daughter against her chest with one arm and pulled Henry close with the other, her mind and heart racing.

"Where does this go?" Henry, always curious, asked over the roar of the fire outside.

"I don't know," Lacey admitted. "It's been broken for as long as I remember."

"Anywhere's better than here," the boy pointed out reasonably, pushing buttons at random.

Nothing happened, and Lacey swallowed. "I think it only works from the outside," she said quietly.

Henry grimaced; neither of them wanted to go back out there. The roar of the fire was only getting louder, and the walls of the elevator were getting hotter. Together, they backed away from the door and the rising heat, and several seconds ticked by in tense silence. Renee wheezed and cried in fear against Lacey's shoulder, and although her right arm was starting to get numb from holding Renee like this, she wasn't about to let go of either of them.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," she tried to soothe her little girl. Tried to soothe all of them. "The fire fighters will come. We just have to wait."

"Won't the fire burn through the cables?" Henry asked around a cough.

"I hope not," Lacey said more quietly than she wanted to. She hadn't thought of that, but Henry was right. Soon enough, the fire was bound to burn through the elevator's cables and drop them to the bottom…wherever that was.

The idea started to form in her mind then, with terrifying clarity, and Lacey sucked in a deep breath before saying more.

* * *

><p>A crowd was starting to gather already, which gave Killian the chance to join the growing mob outside the library. The foolish chief of the firefighters was trying to get in through a burning window, and several other well-meaning citizens rushed over to try to pry the doors open while he climbed through. The poor bastard was probably going to roast himself for his efforts, but he seemed not to notice that. Killian had done a very good job of making sure that no one could get in without sufficient protective equipment, which Forrester was definitely not wearing. His jeans and t-shirt would do him no good, and Killian felt a pang of compassion for him. <em>Unlucky bloke is only doing his job. Pity he had to be so close by when the fire started.<em>

"Going to lend a hand, Mr. O'Malley?" a smooth voice purred from beside him, and Killian turned to look at Cora.

"I'd only be in the way," he answered for any audience they might have. "My expertise is on the water, love, not in fires."

She smiled thinly, her eyes still on the raging fire. "Of course it is."

Sirens grew louder, and the crowd parted to let the first fire truck through. Meleville Anzo leapt down off the truck immediately and started yelling orders, but Killian could tell from the tone of his voice that the deputy fire chief knew that it was too late to save the library. He was taking actions to preserve the surrounding buildings, and that meant Cora should be well-satisfied.

Sneaking a look at her face, Killian decided that the queen seemed rather happy. Oh, her expression was hard to read, but there was a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes that made his stomach roll. _You don't want to know, mate, _the pirate told himself for the hundredth time. _Don't ask. Just do your job and leave the rest on her non-existent conscience._ Still, he didn't want to look at the fire anymore. He'd completed his part, and now Killian just wanted to figure out a way to leave without drawing attention to himself, particularly from the blonde sheriff who had run up to stand next to the mayor's daughter, her pretty features tight and marred by horror.

"It's a pity that our little librarian and her brat were probably caught in the fire," Cora mused, sounding _almost _sorry, but not enough to fool Killian.

"What?" the word tore out of him in surprise, and his stare grew horrified.

Cora just shrugged. "Well, it is the library. I imagine they were both inside."

"You—you—"

She cut him off with a hand on his arm, and Killian pulled away as if the touch burned him. Lacey French had never done anything to him, and her little daughter was _little_. She was what, three years old? Even on his worst days as a pirate, Killian didn't make war on children, and he certainly wasn't a child killer! How could Cora have made him set this up, knowing there might be a child inside? And how could she look so _satisfied _knowing that an innocent little girl might be dying right now?

"I'm sure Mr. Gold will be devastated to know that his little doxy has burned to death," Cora mused emotionlessly, and those words jerked Killian up short.

"Lacey and Gold?" he echoed, turning back to stare at the fire.

"Not anymore," Cora chuckled softly, and then she leaned in close to speak so quietly that only he could hear: "I did say that I would help you get your revenge, Captain. I never break my word."

"The child…"

"An unfortunate accident. Hopefully, she is elsewhere. The child means nothing to me," the Evil Queen replied with a shrug. "As for the rest…"

She trailed off meaningfully, not needing to say more. And no, Killian would not mourn for Rumplestiltskin's lover if she died in the fire. Not after the demon had taken Milah from him so callously—he _deserved_ to know that grief, that world-ending pain. Even if it was only his cursed self, the bastard deserved every bit of agony that Cora could dole out on him, and Killian would not mourn for a woman who had foolishly chosen Gold.

_It's not her fault, _the voice of his conscience whispered. _She's cursed, just like everyone else. _But the voice fell immediately silent as Killian happened to turn and see Gold stepping out of his shop across the street, horror etched into his normally impassive features.

* * *

><p>"Take Renee," Lacey told Henry, turning to hand her precious daughter to the ten year old. Smoke was starting to seep into the elevator, now, and soon their small compartment of safety would turn into an oven. There wasn't any time, and she had to do <em>something.<em>

"Why?" the boy asked in confusion, although he took the crying child without hesitation.

"The elevator works from the outside," she explained, trying not to let her voice shake. "I'll go out and send you both down."

"What? _No!_ You can't! If you do that, you'll die!" Henry objected, and Lacey squared her shoulders.

_Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow_, she told herself firmly. "It's your only chance," she said firmly. "And Renee's. So don't argue with me, Henry. Please."

"I'll take care of her," Henry promised, his eyes wide with horror, and Lacey opened the doors and stepped out of the elevator.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>AN: **__What do you think will happen to Lacey as she steps out with the fire raging? And do you feel bad for Hook, or do you think he's too irredeemable a villain to have regrets?_

_Next up is Chapter Twenty-Two: "True Love Wins Out," where the fire continues to rage, Emma and Cora have another spat, and Gold does something dangerous. Back in the past, Belle wonders why Rumplestiltskin actually missed with that arrow, and Gabrielle is born._

_Also, feel free to check out my Freeze on the Stones Cheat Sheet, which includes a list of who is who out of cursed characters whose name you might not recognize. Also, if you're interested in a in-order timeline of the Enchanted Forest flashbacks, let me know in your review._


	22. Chapter 22: True Love Wins Out

_**Chapter Twenty-Two—"True Love Wins Out"**_

* * *

><p>Seeing through the smoke was almost impossible.<p>

Lacey hadn't expected it to be this bad when she'd come out of the elevator, but the entire interior of the library was dark with thick smoke, black in patches but now mostly grayish white. Everything she could see was bathed in a hellish red-orange glow; flames danced on the ceilings and engulfed the bookshelves to her left. The circulation desk was one of the few things not burning, but Lacey knew it would go up soon, too. Like almost everything else in the library, the desk was wood, and the smell of burning wood already filled the air to bursting. Coughing, she slammed the elevator doors shut behind herself, hoping that too much smoke hadn't gotten in already and forcing herself not to send one last look her daughter's way.

There wasn't time. She was already having a hard time breathing, and Lacey knew that if she hesitated at all, she'd probably black out. So, she fumbled desperately for the elevator's controls, blinking stinging tears out of her eyes. Seeing the controls was hard, and there was no time for second chances. She had to get this right on the first try.

_Crash!_

Her hands were on the buttons, but the sudden noise startled her into turning. Coughing hard enough to shake her entire body, Lacey blinked soot and smoke out of her eyes as fresh air suddenly streamed into the library, making the flames to her left roar even higher. She flinched away and stumbled, only to be caught by a strong set of hands.

"Lacey!" a familiar voice shouted, but it took her smoke-addled brain a moment to realize that it belonged to Errol Forrester, whose son was only a year older than Renee. He was wrapped in blanket of some sort, which he promptly extended to cover her as well. "Where are the kids?"

"In"—cough—"here!" She didn't bother to try to explain, and instead rushed to open the elevator doors one more time, relief making her hands shake. Breathing was hard, so hard, but they were so close to rescue and she _would not _give up now.

Henry and Renee were huddled in the back, both coughing in the smoke and crouched as low as they could get. Both looked at the adults with wide and terrified eyes, but Henry was still holding onto Renee and not letting the younger girl touch the hot floor.

"Come on!" Errol shouted, reaching out a hand. Henry bolted forward immediately, stumbling straight into Lacey's arms. She grabbed Renee from him as Errol picked the boy up, and they turned for the door together. When they were a few feet away, the firefighter ordered: "Stay down!"

Lacey let Errol shove her down, still coughing. Henry huddled against her under the blanket and Renee held on tight, but she was able to make out Errol's form as he attacked the door from the inside with the baseball bat he'd brought in with him. It had to be burning his hands—it was a metal bat, not a wooden one—but he gave no sign of pain. One powerful swing came after another; he was aiming for the weak point between the doors, aiming to smash the lock out before they all burned to death or died of smoke inhalation. Logically, Lacey knew that only seconds had passed since Errol had burst into the library, but they were running out of time.

* * *

><p>Regina spotted her mother talking to that odious pirate and strode that way before she remembered she was holding an innocent child in her arms. Once she'd thought of Jamie, however, it didn't matter. He was only four, and he wouldn't remember a thing she said or make sense of it, anyway. But Errol was still inside the burning library, and so was <em>Henry<em>, and Regina wanted to kill her mother on the spot.

"This is your doing, isn't it?" she hissed as the pirate backed off hastily, clearly wanting nothing to do with their conversation. He was one of her mother's flunkies here—Cora might have even had his heart, for all Regina knew—but obviously was smart enough to know when he wasn't wanted.

"This tragedy? Of course not, darling," Cora replied, and the very innocence in her reply made Regina want to spit fire. Cora cocked her head. "And who is this little darling you have with you?"

"Jamie Forrester," she snarled, shifting her grip on the boy. Jamie waved friendlily at Cora, oblivious to the anger swirling around him. "His_ father _is in there trying to rescue Henry!"

"Oh, no. _Henry_ is inside?"

Her mother had never been a terribly good actor, but Regina didn't think she was even trying at the moment. Her expression barely even changed, and although her voice registered horror, she could see the calculating gleam in Cora's eyes. They met Regina's own levelly enough, and Regina did not have to be a mind reader to see the warning there. Or rather, the I-told-you-what-would-happen look, the one that told Regina how her mother had no problems trying to kill her adopted son. Regina was so angry that she wanted to cry, wanted to gouge her mother's eyes out, and wanted to start a magical battle right here in the middle of the street.

Of course, not having magic was a severe handicap on that front, but Regina was damn close to slugging her mother to compensate. Worry, however, won over anger. The sirens were getting louder, but Regina knew that even as the fire truck skidded to a halt in front of the crowd, that it was too late. She wanted to be sick.

"You know he is!" she hissed, hating the tiny smile on her mother's face.

"Look!" Jamie piped up before Cora could respond, and both women spun to look as the doors to the library suddenly burst open.

Smoke billowed out, but Regina didn't even notice that as she rushed forward. Because there they were, four forms buried underneath a burning blanket. The big, burly firefighter who'd just jumped off the truck rushed over to pull the blanket off of the quartet, and Regina's knees went weak when she saw Errol Forrester carrying her son in his arms. Lacey French stumbled along next to him, her own little girl cradled close to her chest, but in that moment, Regina had never seen anything more beautiful than the firefighter who had saved her son.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Lacey was starting to feel vaguely human again. Her vision was starting to clear, and Renee was snuggled up closely to her side. They both sat on one stretcher behind the ambulance while Henry sat on another, with all three wearing oxygen masks to try to help them fight the effects of smoke inhalation. They were all covered in soot despite the paramedics' best efforts to clean them off, but Lacey didn't care. They were <em>safe<em>. Regina and David Nolan were there, too, both crowding around Henry as the boy tried to tell them that he was fine, along with Emma Swan who looked just as worried but a little out of place. Little Jamie Forrester had climbed up on the stretcher next to Henry while his father directed the firefighting efforts, and the ten year old seemed to be weathering the attention just fine, despite his smoke-stained clothes and tired grin.

A pang of jealousy hit Lacey as she looked down at her daughter, and for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to have family and friends surround her like that. She'd always told herself that she didn't need more than Renee, but right now it would have been really nice to have someone to lean on. To not have to be the strong one, just for once.

"How are you doing?" a voice asked, and Lacey turned her head to look at the new sheriff as Emma approached her stretcher.

"We're okay," she said, pulling the mask off with a cough. "Or we will be, anyway."

Renee had stopped crying a few minutes ago, and she now looked up at the sheriff with wide brown eyes as Lacey rubbed her back. Slowly, the little girl crawled into her mother's lap, and Lacey just wrapped her arms around her tightly, turning to watch the flames engulfing her workplace…and her home.

"That's, uh, good," Emma said awkwardly, clearly following Lacey's eyes. "Look, I just talked to Granny. She said that there's a room open for you for as long as you need it, since I gather that your relationship with your father isn't all that great."

"No, it isn't," Lacey replied quietly. She'd spotted Moe French in the crowd a few minutes earlier, but he'd made no move to approach her. In fact, the only person who had said a word to her other than the paramedics and the sheriff had been Regina Nolan, and she'd been understandably distracted by her own child.

"Mary Margaret headed home to grab some of our stuff for you, too," Emma continued, and Lacey felt a real smile cross her face. Pretty much everything she owned had to be burned up by now; they had the fire under control, but the library was all but gone. She was certain that her little apartment was destroyed, too. "And since the library is town property, I'm sure that the town will pay for—"

"Not when the fire was undoubtedly caused by Miss French's negligence, the town won't," a new voice cut in, and Lacey turned to look at the mayor, her stomach rolling with loss and grief.

"What?" Emma snapped.

"There will be an investigation, but I think we all know what that will turn up," Cora Mills continued, sending a poisonous smile Lacey's way. "Such a terrible fire was probably caused by Miss French's continued inattention to her…_child_, and I'm not paying a cent out for their care unless someone can prove otherwise."

"Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" the sheriff demanded.

"That's only in legal cases, Sheriff. This is an administrative matter," Cora countered, and Lacey felt like a ping pong ball bouncing between the pair of them.

"That's horseshit!"

"Bad word," Renee muttered against Lacey's chest, and a sad, broken laugh wormed its way out of Lacey as Emma looked down in horror.

"Sorry," the sheriff said, cringing.

The mayor, however, just snorted. "Be it as it may, Miss Swan, you have no standing in this matter. The fire department and the D.A. will conduct the investigation, not you. So your feelings on the matter are not my concern."

"This isn't right," Emma shot back, but Lacey was already doing the math in her head when Cora shrugged.

"It's all right, Emma," she said softly, knowing that fighting with the mayor on this was useless. Cora _could _keep the town from paying Lacey a cent, even though part of her employment contract stated that the town would insure her belongings against fire, flooding, or building damage. For the first time, Lacey really understood what Gold had meant when he referred to Cora's power…and she knew that arguing this point would only make things worse. Hopefully, the investigation would prove her innocent, and she could get the money afterwards. "I have some money saved up."

Not nearly enough, she knew. She would have to find another job, and fast, not to mention a place to live. Even if Granny was nice enough to give her a discount on account of being Ruby's friend, staying at the bed and breakfast would be expensive to do long term.

"Well, that's good to hear," Cora said with false sweetness. "Because we both know that your father won't take you back."

"My problems with my father are none of your business, Madam Mayor," Lacey snapped before she could stop herself. She didn't know what had caused the fire—aside from being certain that it wasn't Renee's fault—but her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and Lacey was through putting up with Cora's nastiness. "So unless you have something _helpful _to add, why don't you go torment someone else?"

Fury immediately filled Cora's eyes, but Emma snickered all too openly, drawing some of the mayor's ire her way. Unfortunately, there was plenty of it to go around, and Cora's lips curled up into another nasty smile.

"With an attitude like that, it's a wonder that child services hasn't taken your brat away yet," the mayor purred acidly. Then her glare turned on Emma. "Although it's _no _wonder why you had to give Henry up."

With that parting shot, Cora strode off, her head high and expression self-satisfied. Lacey glared after her, but it was Emma who said:

"What a—uh, _cranky_ woman." The sheriff glanced guiltily down at Renee, but Renee just smiled at her, not noticing the pause as Emma reconfigured what she was going to say for the three year old's benefit.

"Yeah," Lacey agreed quietly, and then forced a smile. "Look, we'll be all right. You go check on Henry. He needs you, too."

Henry idolized Emma, Lacey knew. He loved both of his adopted parents, but his birth mother had become his hero, and the last thing Henry needed was for Emma to be fawning over Lacey and Renee right now. The boy had been unbelievably brave during the fire, but he was only ten years old, and he needed his mother right now. _Both _of them. Emma, however, still looked uncertain.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah. We'll go get that room at Granny's, so it won't be like we'll be hard to find," Lacey promised. "Go on. He was really brave today, and you should be proud of him."

"I am," Emma replied immediately, and Lacey liked the way the sheriff's face softened as she looked Henry's way.

"Then go," she told the blonde woman, and watched Emma go rejoin the family circle—fortunately free of Cora—around Henry. Henry beamed upon seeing his birth mother approach, and Lacey watched the boy start excitedly telling Emma about his experiences in the fire. Watching the pair of them made that horrible feeling of envy rear its head again, and Lacey swallowed back her loneliness. She had a beautiful daughter and they were _alive. _What more could she ask for?

* * *

><p>Regina watched the firefighters as Henry regaled David and Emma with the story of how brave Miss French had been ready to die to save him and her daughter. She'd heard it already, from both Errol and Henry both, and made a mental note to thank the mousy little librarian. Who <em>had <em>Lacey French been back in their world? Regina had never noticed her before, but she must have possessed impressive courage back there, otherwise it would have not have shone through the curse like this. That, however, could wait for later. There was someone else she wanted to thank so much more, someone who already made her battered heart skip a beat every time she looked at him. Regina had told herself that she needed to avoid Errol Forrester for that very reason; she couldn't afford romantic entanglements now, not with the end of the curse approaching and certainly not without attracting her mother's fatal attention. But now she burned to know who Errol was, _needed _to know the man who had saved her son.

He'd stepped out of the fire like he rushed into burning buildings every day, and then smoothly taken command of the firefighting efforts. His team managed to save the surrounding buildings, too, although the library itself was utterly finished. Regina tried to watch without anyone noticing, which was fairly easy given how _everyone _was staring at the intrepid firefighters, but she couldn't ignore how damn heroic Errol looked out there. Whoever he'd been, he'd definitely been the hero type. Had Regina been her mother, she'd have been hoping that he was a prince or a king, but she found herself not caring. She'd fallen in love with a stableboy once. What did it matter who Errol had been?

_Love_. The Dark Princess who her mother had forced her to be would scoff at the notion, but Regina knew that flutter in her heart way too well. It wasn't real, not yet—_real _love had to be fought for—but it was possible. And she wanted that more terribly than she'd ever been able to express.

"Henry, honey, I'm so glad to see you're all right," a voice intruded on her thoughts, and Regina whirled to face her mother, unable to stop herself from glaring.

Thankfully, her son was more tactful, as well as being blissfully unaware that his grandmother had probably been trying to kill him. "Thanks, Grandma."

"Well, we were all terribly worried about you, weren't we, Regina?" Cora turned on her with a smile, and if Regina could have murdered her mother right there, she would have done it.

"Of course we were, Mother," she grated out.

Was Regina the only one who saw the malicious sparkle in her mother's eyes as Cora reached out to stroke Henry's hair? No, she wasn't; Emma's eyes narrowed, too, and she glanced at Regina as if wanting permission to tell the Evil Queen what to do with herself. _If only I could grant it!_ But Regina was perfectly capable of taking a warning to heart. She would have to be much more careful from here on out; Cora's attempt to hurt Henry might have been foiled, but she wouldn't put it past her mother to try again. Regina was furious, not stupid.

"Well, then, why don't we all head home?" Cora said sweetly. "I think a celebratory dinner is in order, and Chef Anderson is preparing your favorites, Henry."

"Okay," Henry agreed uneasily, glancing at his mother as if he was finally picking up on her undercurrent of anger. But Regina forced a smile for him.

"That's lovely of you," she told her mother, wanting to choke on the words.

Cora smiled maternally at her before turning a razor-sharp glare Emma's way. "Not you, Miss Swan. This is for family only."

* * *

><p>He was…relieved. There was no other word for the emotion coursing through Killian, and he didn't even think that he minded that feeling at all. He hadn't been overly fond of the idea of setting a fire in the first place, and the idea of burning two innocent children up in there—even if one of those children was the daughter of the Dark One's lover—left the pirate feeling more than a little sick. He wouldn't have minded too much if Lacey French had burned, even if his conscience did whisper that the girl had never done anything to him. She even smiled at his flirting the few times he came by the library, and had she not been such a conscientious mother, he'd probably have thrown a line or two in that direction himself in the past. He'd always admired her a little bit, and if Cora hadn't told him what she meant to Gold…well, Killian might very well have liked her.<p>

On one hand, he felt that anyone who jumped into bed with the Dark One, cursed or no, deserved what they got. On the other, Kilian was no fool, and he wouldn't put it past Cora to have given Gold someone to care about. The demon was a cold blooded bastard in both worlds, but Killian had seen the stark horror on his face when he'd seen the library burning and had known that the woman he—not _loved_, because even while cursed, Killian wasn't sure Gold was capable of love—liked, or was at least sleeping with, was inside. Killian well remembered that feeling of the world dropping out from under your feet, remembered knowing that an evil force of nature was about to ruin your world and there wasn't a bloody thing you could do about it. And for a moment, he actually pitied the man.

Then he remembered Milah, remembered that Gold was not Rumplestiltskin, and decided that he'd save his pity for Lacey and her cute little girl. Fortunately, the chief firefighter had decided to play hero, and Killian promised himself he'd join the rest of the town in buying Forrester drinks until the man bled whiskey from his ears. Whoever Errol had been, the man was a damn hero now, and he deserved every accolade he got. _Particularly for saving the Nolan boy. Emma would be devastated if anything happened to him, _Killian knew, and then wondered when he'd started thinking of the blonde sheriff as 'Emma'. He was attracted to her in a physical sense, but she was supposed to be a job. A mark, if you would. Not a person to get emotionally involved with.

Whatever she was, he was glad her boy was safe. Henry. He seemed like a good lad, and Killian had nothing against Regina, either. Or even against the fool prince who didn't know he was the boy's grandfather. He wasn't sure what had possessed Cora to try to kill her own adopted grandson—and was sure that he didn't want to poke that sleeping dragon—but Killian was glad she'd failed.

And very glad she hadn't turned him into a child killer twice over while she was at it.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

"Why didn't you kill him?" Belle asked as the horseless carriage rattled its way back towards the Dark Castle.

Rumplestiltskin jerked up short, turning to face her with an expression that said he utterly did not comprehend her question. Sighing, Belle crossed her arms and stared at her employer until he finally said:

"Whatever do you ask that for, dearie? You should just be happy that I didn't," he shot back with that irritating laugh of his.

"I _am _happy," she retorted. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to know why."

Belle had known he was lonely. She had known that for a while now, and had seen glimmers of the man hiding underneath the monster that Rumplestiltskin always reminded her he was. She was slowly getting to know him, rough edges and all, and Belle firmly believed that there _was _goodness buried deep within him, despite that darkness that festered inside him. Belle had always believed in being honest with herself, and she knew that she was starting to develop…_feelings _for Rumplestiltskin. There was so much about him that drew her in, that made her laugh and made her happy. It wasn't rational, and it didn't make sense, but Belle didn't care.

Still, she had to _know_. She needed to know if there really was any good left in Rumplestiltskin before she let herself fall for him.

"I…the arrow simply missed," he lied, and Belle snickered.

"I thought that bow never missed?" His grumble was audible, and Belle bounced forward to sit next to him, wrapping her hands around his arm and smiling up at him. "I think you didn't want to leave a child without a father."

Rumplestiltskin scowled, but Belle continued to smile. "Oh, read your book or something," he snapped.

"Later," she replied sunnily. "You're not as scary as you think you are, you know."

"You have no _idea _how scary I am, dearie." Another nasty giggle came as he pulled away, but Belle saw no actual ire in his glare, and she just continued to smile . He really _wasn't _as dark as he thought he was, and that warmed her heart.

* * *

><p>The type of town Storybrooke was became so very apparent when the fire died down, the ambulances drove away, and the crowd left. The sun was going down by then, and no one seemed to pay attention to Lacey or Renee French as they headed slowly towards Granny's, walking quietly along the now-deserted streets. Behind them, the library lay in shambles, along with all of their belongings. Mother and daughter both still wore smoke-blackened clothing and looked more than a little worse for the wear, but no one stayed to see if they were all right, not even Moe French, who should have cared more than anyone else.<p>

Or more than _almost _anyone else.

Gold had gone to great lengths to keep his relationship with Lacey a secret from Cora, even when doing so risked breaking her heart. He kept his distance when Lacey needed him, stood and watched another man rescue her in silence, and remained in the shop while the furor died down. He wanted to go to her, more than anything, but he didn't dare. Not with Cora standing there watching _everything_. Even when Cora left, however, he lingered on the sidelines, telling himself that it was safer for both of them if he stayed away. But now, watching Lacey head towards Granny's by herself, lonely and oh so brave, forcing herself to face a terrifying and friendless future…he couldn't do it. Rumplestiltskin just couldn't.

So, he pulled his Cadillac up next to her, rolling the car to a stop as she turned to see who it was. Rumplestiltskin rolled down the window, swallowing hard as he looked at the smoke-stained face of his True Love. Of his _wife._

"Get in the car, sweetheart," he said softly. "I'm taking you home."

Wide blue eyes stared at him until Gabrielle—_Renee!—_asked innocently: "Gold?"

"Yeah." A smile tugged at his lips; how _had _he managed to avoid his daughter for this long? Oh, he could tell himself all day long that it was to keep them both safe, but just seeing her made his heart beat a little faster, made his darkened soul just a little bit lighter. Leaning across the car, he opened the passenger door for them. "Get in."

Lacey did, shifting Renee into the spot between them as the little girl smiled, all teeth and Baelfire's brown eyes. "I thought you said…"

"I was wrong," Rumplestiltskin said as she closed the door and buckled in. His smile turned crooked. "I was a fool."

"I understand," Lacey replied softly. "I think."

"Home?" Renee echoed as he put the car into drive, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Rumplestiltskin looked down as he stopped the car at a stop sign, smiling at the cursed little girl who did not know she was his daughter. "Would you like that? To come to my house?"

Renee looked thoughtful for a long moment, and then she nodded very solemnly. "Okay."

Rumplestiltskin felt a smile tug at his lips, and without thinking, he looked up at Lacey to see her staring at him with such naked need and sorrow that it broke his heart. He couldn't keep doing this to her. Lacey deserved better, and even if he'd always been a coward, he had loved Belle from almost the beginning. And Gold had loved Lacey to the point of distraction, beyond logic and certainly far beyond caution. _True Love wins out every time, I suppose, _Rumplestiltskin thought to himself, reaching out for Lacey's hand.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "But it will be different now. I promise."

And when Lacey smiled Belle's smile like that, he could almost believe himself.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 Years Before the Curse<em>

Their child had come into the world without the benefit of a midwife and with only her father's magic to keep her safe and healthy, but Gabrielle appeared with a bang, wailing as any healthy babe should and proving right away that she had her mother's sprit. Now she was sleeping in her mother's arms, wrapped in a blue blanket that Rumplestiltskin had expected to match her eyes...which had turned out to be, much to his surprise, a warm brown color that reminded him almost painfully of Baelfire. Or of himself, long ago, if he wanted to indulge in a bit of honesty.

"I think she's out," Belle said, smiling tiredly.

"I do think so," he agreed softly, leaning over to kiss his wife on the forehead. Belle still lay in their bed with Gabrielle in her arms, but Rumplestiltskin was on top of the covers next to her, now, staring in amazement at the perfect little child he and Belle had someone created. _She'll look like her mother, _he thought with no small amount of satisfaction. He'd Seen that much, although Rumplestiltskin always had a hard time Seeing into his own future or that of those closest to him.

"She's so beautiful," Belle whispered.

"She'll look like you," Rumplestiltskin replied, and then laughed lightly. "And a good thing that is, too. We'd not want her looking like this."

He indicated his own scaly form with a sweep of one hand, but his wife turned her head to smile at him, grabbing that hand before Rumplestiltskin could say something else derogatory about himself. "I would have loved her no matter what she looked like. Just like I love you."

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, kissing the hand that still held his.

"It's not about deserving," Belle replied seriously. "It's about love, and I love you, Rumplestiltskin. For all eternity."

"And I love you, Belle." The warmth spreading inside him was almost enough to silence even his curse and Rumplestiltskin felt like there might never be a moment so perfect as this one, lying quietly with his wife and his daughter, knowing that he could love them and be loved. "No matter what."

* * *

><p>"We don't have any things," Lacey said worriedly as Rumplestiltskin led her and Renee into the house.<p>

He smiled slightly, already thinking of the things he needed to move to childproof the antique-ridden house that the curse had given him. Rumplestiltskin didn't give a damn about most of those belongings, but he didn't want Gabrielle—_Renee!_—hurting herself. Fortunately, the three year old was tired enough right now that she probably wouldn't be too grabby. Tomorrow, of course, would be another matter, but he figured that he could fix things in the meantime. "Don't worry about that," he reassured her. "What's mine is yours, and I'll call Dove and have him do a quick shopping trip for any necessities you might need."

"Thank you," was her soft reply, and he gave her a smile.

Besides, it wasn't like Lacey hadn't spent a night or two at his house; she had shampoo, soap, and a change of clothes or two there from the days before he'd woken up. Gabrielle would be a little more difficult to clothe, but thankfully the giant pink house had a washing machine, and Dove had a girlfriend. Gold had forgotten her name frequently, but Rumplestiltskin knew who she actually was, and he'd be sure to mention to Dove that he should take his lady friend along to go shopping for Lacey and a three year old.

"Now," Rumplestiltskin said, pulling his mind to the present and away from plans he could make later, "let's get this little lady settled in, shall we?"

"Where?" Renee wanted to know, and Rumplestiltskin glanced at Lacey.

"For now, let's try the couch. I think I get the Disney channel," he told them both, knowing from experience that putting a Disney movie on was the quickest way to distract Renee. She was still too young to understand most of them, but she liked the songs and the pretty colors. And Rumplestiltskin needed a chance to talk to Lacey alone, which thankfully she seemed to sense.

Together, they got Renee settled in on the couch in front of the television. Gold never watched a lot of TV, but he had apparently bought the entire cable package under the curse, for which Rumplestiltskin was currently grateful. Soon enough, Renee was engrossed in _The Little Mermaid, _freeing her parents up to talk. Not that both of them knew that they were in this together…but Rumplestiltskin knew he had to change that, so he took Lacey gently by the arm and led her into the kitchen. From there, they could keep an eye on the sleepy and stressed three year old, but the chances of Renee overhearing them was slim.

"Gold, I need to understand what's going on," Lacey said before he could get a word in. She looked so sad and so broken, but she forged on bravely. "I know you wanted to stay away from us to keep us safe from Cora, and I'm really starting to understand why, but won't this ruin all of that?"

"It will, but—"

"Then why are we here?" she cut him off. "I have money. We could have stayed at Granny's until I get another job."

If her voice cracked on the last sentence, it was clear that Lacey was determined not to show that. She just stared at him stubbornly, and Rumplestiltskin reached out without even meaning to, leaving his cane balanced against the counter so that he could touch one hand to her cheek and the other to take both of her hands in his.

"Because I can't do this anymore," he answered honestly. "Because I can't leave you to struggle on your own when I can take care of you. I love you, and I won't abandon you when you need me."

"Gold…"

Seeing tears in her eyes broke him into little tiny pieces, so Rumplestiltskin leaned in to kiss her, pouring all of his love and hope and _need_ into the kiss. There was scant little magic in this land aside from the curse, but there was one thing powerful enough to transcend realms. That was the kiss they were denied back home, the one way in which they could never demonstrate their love for one another, the power that had surged through Rumplestiltskin but he could never quite embrace. But here his curse was powerless and trapped, and he _did not care _what it might do to his magic—even though he knew, intellectually, that it would not harm his powers, not in this land.

Long ago, he had placed a second drop of True Love on the parchment for the Dark Curse, preparing for this very moment. Rumplestiltskin had never been quite sure that it would work; even though he placed an extra line in the curse itself to allow love to exist—so that the caster could deny it, Cora would assume—but now he knew it would. Had Gold and Lacey not fallen in love with one another, he would never have been able to wake Belle up, but Gold _had _loved Lacey with all of his guarded heart. And Lacey loved him back; that was plain from the way she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held on for dear life. A few short, blissful seconds passed before the power rolled through him, strong and pure and _light_, powerful enough to make Rumplestiltskin's curse screech in terror and retreat beneath the human he still was deep inside.

Breathless, they pulled apart, and he looked into huge blue eyes that he knew so very well, seeing recognition dawn in them for the first time in twenty-eight years.

"Rumple?" Belle asked hopefully, and, heart soaring, he kissed her again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Three: "Coming Home," in which Emma is sick of Keith's shenanigans, Belle and Rumplestiltskin have a long overdue talk, and Regina seeks Errol out. Back in the past, we find out what happened to Marian._


	23. Chapter 23: Coming Home

_**Questions to Answer:**_

_1. __Who is Dove's girlfriend?__ Dove is dating Babette, the feather duster from Disney's Beauty and the Beast (also known as Fifi and Marie)._

_2. __Is Hook's backstory with Balefire the same?__ Yes, Hook did hand him over to Pan in the past, which is probably why he's so against harming children now—he has yet to forgive himself for that._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three—"Coming Home"<strong>_

* * *

><p>Emma found Keith drunk and face down on the floor after the fire was out and she slunk away from the little Mills family reunion. She hadn't known what else to do after Cora had so nastily told her that she wasn't welcome at their little party, and despite the apologetic glances Regina sent her way, Emma wasn't about to stick around when she wasn't wanted. Henry was all right, and that was what mattered. Emma had arrived after the fire had been in full swing, having been answering what turned out to be a prank call about a robbery on the other side of town, just too late to help at all. In fact, she'd show up just in time to see Errol Forrester burst out of the library as a hero. Otherwise, she probably would have run in there herself, and would have been a lot less effective doing so.<p>

That didn't matter now. The crowd had died down and she'd headed into the sheriff's office to try to do something useful, only to find Keith passed out drunk. He looked like he'd started out sitting in her chair—there was a half empty bottle of whiskey on her desk—but slid down to the floor and somehow flipped over onto his face. The entire station smelled like vomit and cheap liquor, making Emma grimace as she came in. Her already foul mood just dropped right into the crapper, and Emma kicked her deputy.

"Get up," she snapped. "You're fired."

Keith rolled with her kick and blinked at her blearily. "Wha…?"

"You're a drunk and a lecher, and a horrible cop. You're fired. Get out of my Sheriff's Station," she replied, feeling better already. Perhaps it was wrong to take her frustrations out on Keith, but that didn't mean Emma was wrong. Keith was a disaster, and no one in Storybrooke trusted him to do the right thing.

"You can't fire me," her (former!) deputy slurred.

"The hell I can't," Emma retorted. "Get up or crawl out, but I'm done with you."

Keith was drunk enough to try to get up, but not sober enough to manage. He landed back in a heap, sitting cross legged now. His teeth even rattled a little when he hit the ground, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'll tell the mayor lady," he objected, swaying. "She'll fix your everything."

"I bet she will." Despite herself, Emma was smiling. A fantastic idea had occurred to her, so she taunted Keith: "In fact, why don't you go see her now? Tell her how horrible I am to you."

"Don't see if I won'." Somehow, Keith managed to lever himself to his feet, using her desk for balance. She'd have to disinfect it when he was through. "She'll fire _you. _No me."

"Go find out," she urged him, wishing she could see Cora's face when Keith interrupted her celebratory dinner.

"I will. Jus' you wait," he replied, staggering out. Emma watched him with satisfaction until she realized that Keith had left her with both a half-drunk bottle of really crappy whiskey that she wouldn't use as lighter fluid and a trashcan full of vomit.

"You forgot your damn bottle!" Emma called after him, but Keith was already stumbling down the street.

Groaning, she looked at the trashcan and decided to throw the entire thing in the dumpster; that would probably be easier than trying to figure out what various diseases Keith had puked into it and somehow disinfecting it. _At least he made it into the can and didn't leave a mess on the floor, _Emma told herself. Then she braced herself for the stench and grabbed the trashcan, lugging it out the back door and towards the dumpster out back. A vague yelp and a crash drifted in through the still open front doors, and Emma sighed.

The likelihood of Keith making it all the way to Cora's without passing out was low, unfortunately. Emma would probably have to dig him out of a gutter later, but at least the keys to his rusty old truck were still sitting in the sheriff's station. He wouldn't be driving drunk, and Emma could start a search for a new deputy in the morning. _Anyone _had to be better than Keith Law. Hell, hiring that smarmy marina owner would be better than this! Keith had no morals, no self-control, and no respect for the law at all. Even in this screwed up town, Emma could do better than that.

_Maybe Ruby wants a job, _she thought with a smile. _She was talking about leaving Granny's…_

* * *

><p>Rumplestiltskin and Belle had a marriage's worth of kisses to make up for, not to mention twenty-eight years of not truly being together and several months of recent separation. So, the second kiss became a third, and then a fourth, and then they finally broke apart, laughing and holding tightly to one another. He knew she would have questions, and he'd give answers that Belle wouldn't like, but for the moment Rumplestiltskin just closed his eyes and treasured the feeling of having his wife safe in his arms, and knowing that their beloved daughter was watching Disney in the next room. Belle seemed to feel the same, because she buried her head in his shoulder for what seemed an eternity, clinging to Rumplestiltskin as desperately as he was clinging to her.<p>

"How long have you been awake?" Belle asked quietly, drawing back so that her voice was no longer muffled in his suit jacket.

Ah. He might have expected it would start here, but Rumplestiltskin knew better than to lie to Belle, or at least not about this. She knew what his plans had been, and she was really only looking for confirmation. He forced himself to shrug slightly. "Ever since Miss Swan showed up."

"That long?" Why did that make her wince?

"Yes." He tried to stop there, he really did, but the next words tumbled out anyway. "I wanted to wake you up earlier, Belle. I really did. But it wasn't safe. Cora—"

"She's hurting you," Belle cut him off, and Rumplestiltskin wished to hell that Lacey hadn't known so much.

He looked away.

"Rumple?" her voice was soft, as was the hand that touched his cheek and gently brought his head around to face her. But he couldn't look at her, so Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it," he whispered.

"Oh, Rumple." Suddenly, her arms were around him again, and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle's lips brush his cheek as she pulled him close. Letting out a shaky breath, he allowed his head to drop onto her shoulder, let himself feel safe and whole for the first time since he'd woken up to find himself in hell. He could be strong for Belle. He had to be. Just this once, he needed to be the strong one. Belle and Gabi had gone through enough today.

Belle held him in silence for several long moments before asking:

"What's going on? Why are you letting her?" She leaned back again to look him in the eyes until Rumplestiltskin had to look away once more, and this time Belle let him. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to _think _about it, and damn it all, he was starting to shake slightly. Belle's voice dropped to a whisper when she added: "Why can't you stop her?"

"I suppose it's partially my fault." With an effort, Rumplestiltskin pulled himself back together, retreating behind the mask of self-control that Gold had always been so good at. He tried to sound flippant with his explanation, but he was afraid it just came out slightly broken. "When I gave her the information she needed to cast the curse, I had Cora insert a caveat that she would have to do whatever I wished, so long as I said 'please'. I intended to use it, if worst came to worst, to keep you both safe. But I must have given her the idea, because she inserted a few of her own."

"They force you to go to her," Belle guessed immediately, and Rumplestiltskin nodded miserably.

"Yes," he admitted. "And I can't fight it. The only magic here is the curse, and it's too strong. And if I try too hard, she's going to realize that I know exactly who I am, and we can't afford that, not yet."

"What about your pleases?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Gold doesn't know about them, so I can't do that on purpose. And besides…I don't know what will happen if we both try to use them at the same time. It'll likely come down to which one of us used it first, and Cora has more than one."

"Oh, Rumple," she whispered again, pulling his head close with one hand so that she could kiss him on the forehead. He melted into her embrace, feeling the months—or years, depending upon how he looked at it—of loneliness rolling through him like a curse cloud. "I'm so sorry you've had to deal with this alone."

"But I didn't," he said honestly. "Lacey…"

"Lacey loved you," his wife finished for him, and he could finally hear a slight smile in her voice.

"And Gold loved her." Now Rumplestiltskin pulled back to look at Belle, a smile tugging at his lips. "True Love wins out," he said softly. "The curse didn't tie either of us to anyone, so we found one another."

Rumplestiltskin had always believed in the power of True Love—he had watched it at work too many times in his study of magic to doubt—but he had never really experienced it firsthand. Oh, Belle had nearly broken his curse, and the power he'd felt behind their kisses in Amorveria had been extraordinary. But he had never even imagined that his love for Belle might be pure enough to withstand the Dark Curse, to circumvent it and to find a way despite every obstacle thrown in its path. He was such a dark creature, with such a damaged soul, and Rumplestiltskin had always imagined that tainted the love he felt for Belle, even though it was one of the few pure things in his world. But here they were, having fallen in love not once but twice, and he could not bring himself to doubt any of it.

"So we did," Belle replied with a brilliant smile, and despite the horrors lurking in his mind, Rumplestiltskin kissed her again. Belle wasn't Cora, and even Lacey had always been able to soothe away Gold's pain and fears.

She brought him peace. Belle was the light that had invaded his soul, the person who had brought him closer to the man he had been than Rumplestiltskin had ever been as the Dark One. Being with her was like coming home, and Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to revel in this moment for as long as it lasted. There would be plenty of challenges to come, and Cora remained a terrible danger in their lives, but he wanted to savor this moment. He had missed Belle so much, and he could tell by the way her hands held tightly to him that she'd felt the same.

"I guess this answers the question of where I'll be sleeping tonight," Belle murmured in his ear, and a chuckle snuck out of Rumplestiltskin before he realized.

"I suppose it does," he replied, smiling hard enough that the muscles in his face twitched a bit. Gold's face wasn't used to joy, and it felt a little strange.

Concern crossed Belle's face, and he saw her hesitate before she asked: "Can we stay, though? I know you're trying to keep Cora from knowing, but…"

But Lacey didn't have the money to stay at Granny's for long, and jobs were hard to come by in Storybrooke, Belle didn't have to say. Cora's tactic of burning down the library—and Rumplestiltskin didn't want to even _let _his temper contemplate Cora's reasons for doing that, not when he couldn't afford to let his curse off its leash—had done more damage than almost anything else. It deprived Belle of her job and her home in one fell swoop, not to mention all of her belongings. Cora undoubtedly expected both mother and daughter to suffer, or for Lacey to be forced to give up Renee in order to go back to her father's. She'd probably block Lacey from getting another job, too, just out of pure vindictiveness. And Rumplestiltskin was not about to let that happen.

"I thought," he said contemplatively, "that Gold might hire Lacey as a live-in maid. If you want to stay…?"

He couldn't discount the fact that she might be angry enough to want to live elsewhere, and—

"Of course I do, you silly man," Belle replied immediately, lifting a hand to smack him lightly on the shoulder. Relief coursed through him, and Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Even if I am a terrible maid."

"Well, then. That should keep you both here, at least. Though people will talk," he added hesitantly.

"I don't care," his brave wife replied. "I want to be with my family, and that includes you, Rumplestiltskin."

Hearing her say his name like that made him close his eyes again, melting into her touch as Belle's fingers brushed his cheek. He had been so worried for her earlier, so ready to rush right into that fire after Belle and Gabrielle both, but what could a cripple do in the Land Without Magic? For once, it had not even been his own habitual cowardice holding him back, but by the time Rumplestiltskin had heard about the fire, it had already been raging and the outlaw-turned-firefighter had already gone in. He'd been able to do nothing but watch helplessly and pray that another man could save his family. _I suppose that I really should be grateful I never killed Robin Hood, _Rumplestiltskin thought suddenly, and contemplating that little quirk of fate made him snicker aloud.

"What?" Belle asked curiously.

"The irony is rather beautiful. You stopped me from killing Robin Hood all those years ago for the sake of his wife and unborn child…and now he's saved _my _wife and child."

She gave him a cheeky smile. "I thought you just 'missed'?"

"Of course I did," Rumplestiltskin replied, leaning in to steal another kiss. He would never forget that day, and now he owed the outlaw twice over: first, for providing an opportunity in which the terrible Dark One realized that he was honestly and truly in love with his maid, and second, for saving his family when he could not.

* * *

><p>"I'll go grab 'em, if you like," Mel Anzo—whoever he actually was—told Regina as she tried hard not to fidget uneasily. She shouldn't be here, but David was off getting Henry cleaned up, and she needed to do this before she could face her mother at that horrible dinner she had planned. <em>Celebratory my ass, <em>Regina thought angrily. _She wants me to know she still has all the power. That she can hurt anyone she wants to, and that I can do nothing to stop her._

"Thanks," was what she said out loud, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to look dignified. She'd looked up Errol's address in the phone book, and was only slightly surprised to find that he and his son lived with the humongous firefighter. She hoped like crazy that there wasn't something going on between them—but _no, _she didn't. Maybe there was, and it wasn't her concern at all.

Except she wanted it to be.

"Hey, Regina," Errol's voice suddenly said, and her head whipped around from where she'd been staring at the doorbell.

"Hi," she replied awkwardly, trying on a smile that felt entirely too natural. What _was _it about this man who could make her knees go weak? She'd only met him a handful of times, first when she'd saved his son and then when he'd saved hers from a far greater danger.

"What, uh, can I do for you? And do you want to come in?" he asked, stepping back to clear space for her to come through the door. Behind him, Regina could just make out a very rustic looking apartment, with a deer head on one wall and a crossbow on the other. It looked like a place owned by two bachelors, complete with a stack of random shoes lined up against one wall and some sort of electronic gaming system or another by the television.

She shook her head, despite the fact that she really wanted to say yes. "No thanks. I…I'm expected at my mother's. I just wanted to stop by and say thank you. You saved my son's life."

"As you saved mine."

"It's hardly the same. I—you ran into a _burning building _for Henry, and I…I just needed to thank you. To your face," Regina stuttered. "Because he means the world to me, and I don't know what I'd be if I lost him."

"And I don't know what I'd do without Jamie," the handsome man replied, reaching out hesitantly to touch her arm. "You don't owe me anything. I was doing my job."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't thank you," she retorted.

Errol shrugged. "Then you're welcome, if you insist." His smile was crooked. "Besides, your boy was very brave. You should be proud of him."

"I am." Now, at least, her smile could be unrestrained.

"I can only hope that my Jamie grows into the same sort," he replied. "I envy you the stability of your married life. Raising him without my wife is…hard."

"What happened to her?"

She shouldn't ask. She really shouldn't.

"An accident," Errol answered, looking distant and broken. "She hit a tree driving to a friend's after we had a fight, and it caused a car fire. We got there too late, and by the time I pulled her out, she was dead."

"I'm so sorry," Regina replied, and it felt so inadequate coming from the woman whose mother had undoubtedly set that tragically horrible backstory up.

"It was years ago," was his quiet answer. "Jamie barely remembers her, but…"

"I know how you feel." She shouldn't have said it, but her mind was full of Daniel when the words tumbled out, and surprisingly, Errol didn't point out that she had a husband who was _supposed _to be the love of her life.

"I think those we love never really leave us," he said instead, squeezing her arm gently. "Perhaps we move on, but they're never truly gone. I've heard it said that we live in the hearts of those we leave behind, and I like to think that Olivia will always be with me."

Regina wasn't sure what to say to that—she only gave him a watery smile and fled, knowing she looked like a fool but unable to do anything more.

* * *

><p><span><em>2 Years Before the Curse<em>

The Queen's guards had wounded her and then dragged her in the cell to die. They hadn't even had the decency to put them in a cell together; instead, they'd shoved Robin into the cell next door, and not even been kind enough to put his bleeding wife within reach. Instead, Marian was sprawled six or seven feet away, too far for Robin to even grab her hands while she lay bleeding out and struggling for air.

"Take care of Roland," Marian whispered hoarsely, and Robin nodded frantically, trying to choke back his tears for her sake.

"I will. I promise," he replied fiercely, all the while wondering how in the world he was going to keep that oath.

He'd screwed up. They'd been so overconfident, and it had brought them here, where Marian was going to die if someone didn't give her help quickly…and where Robin would undoubtedly be executed soon after. The Evil Queen, after all, was not known for granting mercy to thieves, even those with small children at home. Worse yet, this was Marian's first job since Roland's birth. Their precious boy was less than two years old, and both of his parents had been caught by the Evil Queen's guards due to _his _carelessness. Robin hadn't believed that the Evil Queen could reach the summer palace so quickly, and the reward offered for stealing the Janus Stone from her would have been enough to feed the people of Sherwood for over a year. _Maleficent_ wanted the Stone—rumor said in order to keep it away from Queen Cora, who would use it to control all manner of fell creatures—and the Merry Men had hardly been in a position to refuse the Mistress of All Evil, particularly after what had happened with Will Scarlet and that damned mirror.

"I love you," Marian said next, her voice growing ever quieter.

"And I will _always _love you," Robin swore around the lump in his throat. "Until my dying day."

He knew that day was not far away, and even if it were, there was nothing that would ever heal the whole in his heart that even the _thought _of losing Marian was already beginning to cause.

"Goodbye, Robin," his wife whispered, and she was gone before he could say more.

The guards left him in the cell next to his dead wife for nearly a week, 'awaiting the Queen's pleasure', they said, and forcing Robin to watch as Marian slowly began to decompose. By the time the captain of the Queen's guards, the legendary Huntsman, showed up, he'd cried every tear he had to cry and felt like the shell of the man he had once been, broken and lonely and beyond hoping a miracle could wake her up.

_I had two stolen years with her, _he tried to tell himself as the Huntsman slid a key into the first of three locks (Robin had picked them all at least twice, until the guards grew smart enough to chain him to the back wall). _And Roland will live on as proof of our love. He may barely remember either of us, but perhaps John and the others will tell him stories of us so that he can know us through that._ Listlessly, Robin looked up at the Huntsman, unable to stop himself from asking:

"Is it finally time?" He was ready to die. Looking at Marian's so-still face for the last six days, beautiful even in death, had made sure of that.

"No," the other man replied with what seemed to be regret. "Her Majesty has a special death planned for you. You're to be the…entertainment at next week's fair."

"She's going to use me to further intimidate her people, you mean," Robin said grimly. He wasn't sure why that could still anger him, but it could. He wasn't even _from _this kingdom, and he still hated the horrible queen who ruled over her people with an iron fist. Perhaps she just reminded him of his own corrupt and venal prince, only crueler.

"That is her intention, yes," the captain of her guards replied, stepping into the cell.

"Then why are you here?" Robin asked as the Huntsman crouched to unlock his shackles. "And why in the middle of the night?"

He'd barely bothered to mark the passage of time, but it _was _dark outside. Near midnight, if Robin's reading of the few stars he could see outside the barred window was correct.

"You are not the only one who hates the queen," was the unexpected and soft reply. "I'm setting you free."

Robin twisted to stare at the Huntsman, but the black-clad man only shushed him and helped him to his feet. Robin felt weak from a week without food and barely enough water to live on, but the thought of freedom gave him strength. He was halfway to the door before he hesitated, turning to look back over his left shoulder at the motionless corpse in the cell next to him, the husk that had once been the love of his life.

"We must go," the Huntsman hissed urgently.

"Marian…"

"You can do nothing for her, but live in her memory. Now come, before the guards I have relieved grow suspicious."

He was right, even if the thought burned. And Robin couldn't even ask the Huntsman to make sure his beloved's body was taken care of; the man was already risking too much by freeing him, and Robin was certain that the Evil Queen would have plans for their bodies, if only to put them on display to terrify the peasantry. So, he cast one last look at his wife, memorizing her features and swearing to himself that he would let her live on through Roland. _I will never forget, _Robin swore silently, and then allowed the Huntsman to lead him to freedom.

* * *

><p>"She doesn't really know me," Rumplestiltskin said sadly, standing with an arm wrapped around Belle in the doorway to his living room and watching their daughter sleep. Gabrielle—<em>Renee!<em>—had fallen asleep in front of _The Little Mermaid _while her parents reacquainted themselves with one another.

"Oh, Rumple," his wife whispered, and he felt her arm around his waist tighten. "She always liked Gold…I think she knows more than we give her credit for, even if it's not on a conscious level."

"You do?"

Belle nodded. "She never liked Tony—Gaston—or any of the other men Lacey tried to date. Only you."

Hearing that warmed his little black heart in ways Rumplestiltskin hadn't known were still possible, and he managed to give his wife a slightly watery and very crooked smile. He'd tried so hard not to think on how much he missed both of them in the months that had passed since he woke up, but the emptiness of the damn pink mansion had only grown with time. Now, however, having them both here was something of a miracle. Despite how it had happened, despite the terror of that fire and his growing rage with Cora (because there was no doubt in his mind, none at all, that Cora was responsible for this fire; not in this town and not with the triumphantly acid way she'd treated Lacey immediately afterwards), he was so very happy to have them home with him that Rumplestiltskin could burst.

_Kill her, _the curse whispered in his mind for the thousandth time.

_In time, _Rumplestiltskin promised it, watching with a smile as Belle woke their daughter up. It was bath time, and he'd already dispatched Dove to the store. Dove wouldn't be able to do a complete shopping this evening, but he'd be able to pick up some necessities for both of them. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

_Kill her now!_ The dark voice he knew so well howled, and Rumplestiltskin stepped on its rage with an effort.

He couldn't afford to kill Cora. Not yet. Doing so would deprive the Savior of an enemy to focus upon, and the mob of a villain to go after when the curse finally broke. Under other circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would have had no problems filling both roles himself—not if it got the job done and the curse broken—but he had a family to protect, now. Cora had wanted revenge, and she had made this curse _so _much worse than it had to be. Every little vindictive action had an associated price, and that price was Cora's to pay. He's see her do that before he killed her, before he watched the life drain out of her eyes in revenge for what she had done to him and for what she had tried to do to his family. He _would _kill her, but Rumplestiltskin wanted to let Cora taste the bitterness of defeat, first. And then he could enjoy her death.

However, those dark thoughts faded as he followed Belle up the stairs, listening to his daughter protest sleepily that she _wasn't _tired. She was still Renee, because he had no way to wake her up; a child of three wasn't emotionally mature enough for a kiss of True Love to work in this context, even that of a parent. But Belle was right. Renee was very much Gabrielle, from her sleepy smile to the pouty face she put on at the thought of a bath. Apparently she was at the age where bath time was evil time, and a pang tore through Rumplestiltskin's heart as he thought of how much he had missed.

Yet he knew that today's little accident would have been nothing compared to what Cora would have done if she knew about Belle and Gabrielle. She would have made them suffer far worse fates than they already had if she knew how much they meant to Rumplestiltskin. As painful as the time apart had been, at least it had kept his family safe.

"I'll go childproof the guest room," he told Belle as she took the now-cranky three year old into the bathroom. "Dove should be here soon."

"Next time, _you _get the bath, and I get the easy part," his wife retorted, but she softened her glare with a smile.

Rumplestiltskin just snorted and ducked into the next room, sweeping his eyes around it and quickly starting to pick up anything that might hurt a child. He was glad that he'd grabbed a trash bag on the way up, since in this world without magic he had to do everything the hard way, and he had no intention of keeping most of the ugly antiques that the curse had decided to furnish this room with. _Tomorrow, Belle and I will sit down and we'll draw up a shopping list for Dove_, he decided, wishing that he could openly take Belle and Gabrielle shopping for every toy and bit of clothes his daughter could handle. But he couldn't. Not yet. Someday, perhaps when the curse was broken, they'd have that much freedom, but right now he had to maintain the fiction of "Lacey" being an employee. Oh, there were plenty of people who would assume that they were intimate. They would probably think, he realized with a grimace, that it was part of what Lacey was being paid for. But there was no helping that. Time would let the truth come out, and Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not patient.

He'd finished clearing out the room, and bringing in some extra pillows and blankets, by the time Belle got their daughter cleaned up. Rumplestiltskin had even found an old undershirt of his that would do for a nightshirt for Renee; it would be big on her, but at least it was something clean. So, he handed that over and watched with a soft smile as Belle dried off and dressed Renee, carefully combing her hair until it was tangle free. By then, Renee was bouncing and impatient, and was starting to get curious about this house she had never visited before.

_I doubt she remembers ever spending the night anywhere other than the apartment in the library, _Rumplestiltskin realized as he trailed Belle into the guest room. Renee had a tight grip on her mother's hand, but had insisted on walking herself, and she was looking around with wide eyes.

"This is going to be your room, all right?" Belle said to her with a smile.

"All mine?" Renee asked, and she was smart enough to glance at the man who she knew as Gold.

"For as long as you want it, princess," he replied solemnly, and was rewarded with a toothy smile.

"Read me a story?" Renee asked him in response, and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart turn into a puddle of goo.

"Gladly," he replied, leaning his cane against the wall so that he could pick his daughter up. The bed was close enough that he could limp there, bad leg and all, and he wanted to be able to hold his little girl. "I even do voices."

Her brown eyes—eyes that were painfully similar to the ones he looked at every day in the mirror, ones he had once all but forgotten he had—went wide. "You do?"

"I do," Rumplestiltskin promised, sitting on the bed and settling her in. Belle sat down on their daughter's other side, looking at him with shining eyes, and Rumplestiltskin had truly forgotten what it was like to be this happy. "And I'll even do one better, if you like. I'll tell you a _real _story, one you're not going to find in any book."

"Is it a good story?" Renee wanted to know, and Rumplestiltskin reached for his wife's hand as he tucked the blankets in close to his little girl.

"The best," he answered. Fingers squeezed his, and Renee nodded.

"Okay."

"Then, once upon a time, there was a beautiful young lady who lived in a place called Avonlea. She was brave and very smart, but her kingdom was under attack by terrible creatures called ogres…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Thank you SO much to everyone who left me a note after the last chapter! I really appreciate hearing from everyone. Now that the fire is over, how do you think that Storybrooke will react to Lacey and Renee moving in with the terrible Mr. Gold? _

_Next up: Chapter Twenty-Four: "In the Crossfire," in which Emma gets involved in the fire investigation, Henry asks about his birth father, Mary Margaret and David deal with their growing attraction, Cora plots against Emma, and Belle and Rumplestiltskin discuss what has been happening to him—much to Rumplestiltskin's discomfort. Back in the past, Cora and Regina have a spat, Snow and James come to an understanding, and Rumplestiltskin battles with his own curse in his early days as the Dark One._


	24. Chapter 24: In the Crossfire

_**Chapter Twenty-Four—"In the Crossfire"**_

* * *

><p>Emma had spent the morning talking to Errol Forrester about the various things that could have started the fire that almost killed Henry, because she would be damned if she would stay out of it like Cora seemed to assume she would. The fire department had been going through the rubble since dawn, and although they hadn't reached any firm conclusions, there was one thing that Forrester seemed sure of: no matter how old the building or how flammable the books, the fire should never have spread that fast. So far, he said that he'd found six different origin points for the fire, and there might have very well been more. Forrester was too smart to speculate on how that might have happened (particularly with the thorny D.A. listening on), but Emma got the hint.<p>

That fire had been set by someone, and _her _son had been caught in the crossfire.

"What took you so long?" she demanded, turning to watch Regina walk into the Sheriff's Station as if nothing was wrong. Emma had texted Regina hours ago, and she figured that the other woman would be more than eager to learn about the fire that had almost taken Henry's life.

"Some of us do have other jobs to do," Regina replied with a scowl.

"You're working today?"

"Does my mother look like someone who embraces the idea of a day off?" the older woman retorted. "Of course I am. This is my lunch break, though, so it had better be good."

"Forrester says the fire was set by someone," Emma answered bluntly, figuring that would catch Regina's attention. Unfortunately, it hardly made her twitch.

"I'm not surprised," Regina said.

"_What?_" Emma gaped.

That finally made Regina sigh, although she looked more frustrated and tired than angry. "We've told you what kind of town this is, Emma," the mayor's daughter said. "I have no doubt my mother was behind that, although you'll never prove it."

"What does she have against the library?" she asked, struggling to wrap her mind around the mayor setting—or ordering set—a fire that had endangered her grandson's life.

"I'm not sure it's the library she was after," Regina replied quietly, looking away.

"What—wait a minute, what the hell are you saying?" Emma demanded, reading the defeated look on Regina's face. Coldness seized her own heart; Regina _couldn't _be saying that…that… "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my mother doesn't appreciate defiance, okay?" was the sharp response. "I've helped you too much. I have to distance myself from this, if only to keep Henry safe. She warned me, but I obviously didn't get the message until yesterday."

"You're saying that your _mother _tried to have Henry _killed_?" Emma couldn't believe it. "What the hell kind of woman tries to burn her own grandson to death?"

"If you need me to answer that, you obviously haven't been listening," Regina replied, turning for the door. "I can't help you right now, Emma. You've got to do this on your own, but break the damn curse. It's the only way any of us are going to be safe."

Regina walked out before Emma could even _think _of a response to that, leaving the sheriff blinking in her wake. It was insane. It was all insane. This crazy little town had just utterly jumped off the deep end, and Emma didn't know how the hell she was going to cope with this. On one hand, her every instinct told her that she should grab Henry and get the hell out of town, but then what about Regina and David? They were good parents; it was Cora who was crazy. _Crazy enough to light a library on fire?_ Emma wondered.

She didn't know.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

"I see you're back from visiting Rumple," her mother said as Regina teleported back into her own rooms. "How is our dear Dark One?"

"Kinder than you are," Regina shot back without thinking, and Cora laughed softly.

"Don't pout, darling. It will ruin your complexion."

Regina glared. "I don't care."

"Do remember the terms of our arrangement before you get impertinent," Cora replied lightly. "You behave yourself, and your beloved Daniel lives. If you do not, he will die an excruciating death, and you will watch."

"You remind me of it constantly! How am I supposed to forget that I have no choice?" she snapped, already bent past the breaking point. Poor Daniel had been dumped back in his old dungeon without so much as a healing spell after Cora tortured him in the forest. That was a lesson for Regina, her mother had told them both, without even a smile to show how satisfied she was. Poor Daniel was probably down there now, suffering and alone, all because Regina was too weak to take her mother down.

"Of course you have a choice," was the purred reply. "You simply don't like it." Her mother rose gracefully from her chair, coming over to lay a hand on Regina's shoulder. She pulled away, or tried to, but Cora's fingers dug in painfully. Regina scowled, but her mother continued: "The only way to change your life, Regina, is with power. Power is freedom, and until you embrace that, you will have neither."

"You don't want to give me freedom," she replied bitterly.

"Of course I do. I only want what's best for you, as any mother should."

"Fine way you have of showing it."

Cora smiled sadly. "I have made sure that you will be a queen one day, and when that day comes, you will be able to do whatever you like. And I will make sure that you will be powerful enough that _no one _will be able to take it from you, no matter what."

"I don't want power, Mama. I want love."

"You can have that after you have power, darling. Otherwise, it's meaningless."

* * *

><p>Regina hardly slept that night, tossing and turning in the bed beside David and imagining what would have happened if Errol Forrester hadn't jumped into a fire to save her beloved son. Now, sitting in her office the day after the fire, she felt no better. <em>Mother tried to kill Henry<em>, she thought for the thousandth time, the words echoing over and over again in her mind. Until Cora had threatened him, Regina had thought that her son would be safe because he was Cora's grandson, and Cora had always wanted her family to follow in her footsteps. She'd insisted on the Nolans being the perfect little Storybrooke family, and that included Henry—until Cora had flat out told Regina that Henry wasn't her _blood_, so he didn't matter. And then she had tried to burn the library down with Henry inside, something she did not even deny when Regina cornered her with it the night before.

She wanted to kill her mother.

Had there been a way to do so, Regina thought she might even try. But Cora was too powerful here in Storybrooke, and she'd just smiled slightly at Regina and reminded her of that while they 'celebrated' Henry's survival in the mayor's posh home. David and Henry were oblivious; David because he was cursed to be so, and Henry because even a boy who believed wholeheartedly that his grandmother was the Evil Queen couldn't quite believe that the same grandmother wanted to kill him. But Regina knew.

She had to keep Henry safe. She'd tried so hard, tried so many times to protect Daniel, and in the end her mother had still won. Defiance had done nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest, and as much as Regina hated herself for the thought, the effect here would be the same. Cora knew her too well, and there were too many ways for her mother to hurt Henry. Regina had to keep Henry as her first priority, at least until Emma finally started making enough of a racket to monopolize Cora's attention. _Henry _was more important than breaking any curse, and Regina would protect him with the last breath in her body. Even if it meant she had to live in a cursed Storybrooke for the rest of her life.

* * *

><p>"So," Henry said around a mouthful of pizza that same evening, "when are you going to tell me about my dad?"<p>

Emma froze. They'd been eating dinner together in the Sheriff's Station—Emma was still working late hours to catch up on the paperwork, particularly since she'd spent the morning out of the station talking about the fire—and they'd been talking about the curse. She'd been trying like hell to change the subject, but if Emma had known that Henry was going to go in this direction, she would have been happy to keep talking about curses, black magic, and evil stepmothers.

"What?" she managed to ask, swallowing hard.

"My real dad. I mean, I know David's _actually _my grandfather, so who's my real dad? I get that he's not someone from the Enchanted Forest," the ten year old replied bluntly, grabbing another slice of pizza nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to know about him."

Emma knew her eyes were wide and spooked, but she couldn't do a damn thing to get her expression under control. "Henry, I…"

She had no idea what she was going to say when she trailed off. She was just out of words.

"It's okay if you don't like him anymore," Henry said. "I get that not everyone's parents are married, and not everyone finds their True Love. I just want to know about him."

Swallowing again, Emma forced herself to shrug. "There's not much to say," she said quietly.

"You could start with his name."

"It's not that simple," she answered, turning away to study one of the empty jail cells. Emma hadn't thought about Neal in years. She'd been determined _not _to. So, how was she supposed to explain that to this boy who had Neal's brown eyes and Neal's mischievous grin? Emma tried so hard not to see Neal in the son he'd left her with. Usually, she managed just fine, but having Henry ask brought all of that right into the forefront of her mind.

Henry shrugged. "Is it ever?"

Emma tried to smile for him, but the attempt failed miserably. She just didn't know what to say, didn't know how to answer his questions. A suspiciously heavy weight had started forming in the vicinity of her heart, something painful that she hadn't experienced in years. A moment of silence passed before her kid asked very quietly:

"Does he even know about me?"

She shook her head. "He broke my heart," Emma admitted in a whisper, dropping her head to stare at the desk.

She didn't want to tell Henry that his biological father had sent her to jail. But what if Henry wanted to contact his father? What if—

"It's okay," Henry said suddenly, and Emma hesitantly looked up at him.

His brown eyes were full of warmth, and for a moment, they reminded her so very painfully of the first man she'd ever fallen in love with. Neal had been able to be like that, too; so kind-hearted and so playful. She'd never understand why he sent her to jail, and Emma thought a part of her heart would always be broken after that betrayal. She'd trusted him. Hell, she'd been ready to _marry _him, to settle down and... _And to give Henry a real family. _The realization hit Emma hard, but she had already been pregnant with Henry when it had all fallen apart. Had things gone differently, she and Neal might have gone to Tallahassee together, might have raised Henry together, and everything would have been so different.

_He wouldn't have been caught in a fire that nearly killed him because of some crazy adopted grandmother, that's for certain, _Emma thought fiercely, but her musings were cut off when the boy she'd sent away took her hand.

"I get it," Henry continued with a wry smile. "But will you promise to tell me about him sometime? Later, I mean. It doesn't have to be now."

Emma bit her lip and nodded. "I promise, kid."

"Good."

* * *

><p><span><em>More than 200 Years Before the Curse<em>

"You have stains on your boots," Baelfire pointed out and Rumplestiltskin watched his son's friend—Morraine, he thought—dart away. She was afraid of him, and despite Rumplestiltskin's outward protestations that the other children would get used to him, the darkness inside him knew that would not be the case. And the curse _liked _that fear.

"Ah, yes, that. Uh, we need a new maid," he said, feeling an odd twinge of guilt within him. But he'd done the right thing. Hadn't he? Anyone knowing about the dagger would be a danger to him. To them both.

_She needed to die, _the curse told him, coiling up in his mind, in his soul. It had all but replaced his own thoughts at this point, and it was impossible to know where Rumplestiltskin ended and the curse began. Or even if the human that had been Rumplestiltskin still existed at all. Perhaps he did not; perhaps the curse had completely consumed his soul, and his altered personality was all that remained. He found himself not really caring for the girl who had been their maid, but his son looked horrified.

"Gods, no!" Bae drew back in terror, and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart clench. The curse didn't care, but _he _did, and even as it seemed to shrug in his mind, he tried to explain:

"She heard us talking about the knife."

"She was mute!" his son objected. "She couldn't tell anyone!"

_Mutes have betrayed people before, _the curse pointed out, and it sounded rather logical to Rumplestiltskin's warped mind. _Sons have betrayed people before. You should not have told him!_ He shoved the last point aside with an effort; Baelfire would never betray them. They were each all the other hand in the world, and Rumplestiltskin loved his boy more than anything. But the curse would not let go of the idea; it growled and clawed at him, weaving darkness through his thoughts and sending a thousand images through his mind of how previous Dark Ones had been betrayed, of sons and daughters taking the dagger and enslaving their parents.

He didn't know how many of those images were true memories and how many were just the creation of the curse, but they still put him on edge. To counter that, Rumplestiltskin tried to keep his voice flippant when he replied. After all, the girl was unimportant. Her family hadn't wanted her, and he'd killed her quickly enough, hadn't he?

"Even mutes can draw a picture," he said with a shrug, patting his son on the shoulder and heading towards home. Bae would get over it. He was a good boy.

But Baelfire didn't follow right away; instead his son snarled back:

"That dagger has become everything to you, hasn't it?" the fourteen year old demanded. "It's more important than anything else. That, and _power_."

He said the last word like it was something evil, and Rumplestiltskin turned in confusion. _Power is everything, _the curse whispered. _You need more. More power. More magic. Without power, you are nothing. Without power, they can hurt you again!_ With an effort, he tried to seperate his own mind from the whispers, shaking his head and trying to be rational.

"I only want power to protect you," he explained, not comprehending why Baelfire couldn't understand that. "To protect us. Without it, we'd go back to the life we had before, back to being nothing. You can't want that."

"I don't want _this_!"

"Bae—" he tried, but his son jerked away, tears shining in brown eyes.

"I bet that you'd choose _it_ if you had to choose between the dagger and me," the boy said bitterly, and Rumplestiltskin's shock was finally great enough to drive the curse into silence. _He can't truly believe… _With an effort, he managed to catch his son by the shoulders.

"Baelfire," he said softly, and waited for the boy to look up at him. "I love you more than anything. I did this, I took on this terrible curse, to save you. And I would give up anything I had to if it would keep you safe."

"Except power," was the biter response.

"Even that," Rumplestiltskin whispered. "I love you, Bae. I may have changed, but _that_ never will. Please believe that."

A moment of silence passed as Bae bit his lip, but finally the boy nodded. "I know, Papa. I just want you back, that's all."

Chest tight, Rumplestiltskin pulled his boy close, holding onto him for several long minutes. Bae hugged him back silently, and for a moment, Rumplestiltskin could fool himself into believing that nothing had changed, and that his attempt to save his son hadn't driven this insurmountable wedge between them.

_He will never understand, _the curse whispered in his mind. _He hates what you are now. Best to let him go, or kill him to keep the dagger safe._ But that very thought made Rumplestiltskin sick, made the man assert himself over the monster—ever so slightly—and he hugged his boy tighter. Still, the curse continued: _You cannot go back. No matter what._

* * *

><p>At least Regina had gotten the message, Cora thought behind an outwardly impassive façade. The family dinner she'd hosted after the fire had made sure of that, although Cora was still not pleased with the outcome. <em>Damn that outlaw! <em>She had not anticipated that Robin of Locksley would ever cause a problem here in Storybrooke; he'd been content to live out his sad little life with his son, and Cora had not gone out of her way to make him miserable. She had barely remembered that he existed, or that she'd had his wife killed years before. Locksley had been utterly unimportant until he'd suddenly rescued three people she wanted dead.

After all, Cora had not been adverse to killing three birds with one stone. Disposing of Henry—and therefore driving the irritating Miss Swan out of town—might have been her primary goal, but Cora had chosen the library for a reason. She'd wanted to see the look on Gold's face when his little whore (who he claimed was nothing, but she suspected was at least a bit more than that to him) burned to a crisp, taking her brat with her. Cora had been rewarded, and her suspicions confirmed, by the expression of sheer horror he had worn stepping out of the shop, but she had wanted the French girl dead, not frightened. _I suppose that leaving her destitute and jobless serves as something of a consolation prize, _Cora told herself, straightening her already immaculate desk. _I can enjoy that. _The real problem, however, remained Sheriff Swan.

Regina knew her place. That much was clear. Her daughter would not try to act out again, not with memories of Daniel fresh in her mind once more, along with a demonstration of her mother's power so close at hand. The problem was Eva's granddaughter, the damn Savior who Rumplestiltskin had woven into the curse. Because he _had_, the bastard, and Cora had been fool enough to refuse his deal when he offered to tell her more. She couldn't even recall what he'd wanted in exchange now—it had been over twenty-eight years—but she remembered taking a bit of pleasure in denying him at the time. Now, however, she had cause to regret her own vindictiveness. _Remember not to do that again, _Cora told herself dispassionately. She had allowed a wildcard into her town, and it was proving very difficult to get the Savior to leave. Killing her was, unfortunately, not a viable option, either, so Cora would have to resort to other tactics.

At times like this, she devoutly missed magic. Power of any flavor was welcome, of course, and useful, but magic would have given her so many options when it came to dealing with Eva's obnoxious granddaughter. What magic she had, the curse, would not act against its little Savior, thanks to Rumple's airtight construction of the beast. Cora scowled, but thinking of her former lover gave her an idea.

_For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction._ This world's laws were not so different from the way Rumplestiltskin taught magic. Emma's actions gave her options, didn't they? All she had to do was manipulate events, and Cora would be able to overcome the Savior. Without magic.

Smiling coldly, she reached for the phone.

* * *

><p>Mary Margaret heard the shouting before she even came around the corner. She'd been heading towards Granny's to catch breakfast before going to school—her finances were in <em>such <em>better shape with Emma splitting the rent, and she could finally afford to treat herself from time to time. But the loud and angry voices made her completely forget about her appetite and rush over to where Francis Scadlock faced off with his estranged (and recently released from the secret Asylum) wife. Both looked out of breath, like they'd been shouting for a while, and neither seemed to care about the growing crowd of onlookers.

"You're barking mad!" Francis Scadlock retorted to whatever the pretty blonde facing him had said, his face red with anger and his words louder than before. "You make me wonder if the lot of you didn't actually _belong _in that bloody secret asylum!"

"Will, how can you say that?" Victoria Scadlock (who claimed her name was Anastaisa, Mary Margaret recalled) replied, looking horrified. "I'm not crazy. I've _never _been crazy. Is she making you say this?"

"No one's making me say a damn thing," the _Daily Mirror's _editor snorted. "It's you who can't remember what happened. We've been over for _years_, Vicky, and I don't want to see your ugly face ever again."

He could have slapped his wife and had her look less shocked; Victoria stared at him like he'd ripped her heart out. For a long moment, she seemed unable to catch her breath, her eyes wide and full of pain, until she wheeled to look at the entire crowd.

"What is _wrong _with you people?" she demanded. "Don't any of you remember _anything_?"

No one said a word; everyone just stared and looked away when Victoria tried to meet their eyes. _What _is _wrong with everyone? _Mary Margaret wondered. _Can't anyone be bothered to help an obviously lonely and frightened woman?_ Finally, she stepped forward, taking Victoria gently by the arm. The other woman turned to glare at her, but the expression softened when Mary Margaret offered a smile in exchange. There was defeat behind the anger, though, and Mary Margaret squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"How about I take you to breakfast, Vicky?" she asked quietly.

"Don't bother," Francis interjected bitterly. "She's late for her appointment with Doctor Hopper already."

"Then how about I walk you there, instead?" Mary Margaret suggested, and Victoria snarled softly.

"Fine. It's not like talking to this blockhead is getting me anywhere." She glared at her husband. "Find me when you get your head on straight, Will."

"I keep telling you that my name isn't—"

"Give it up, Scadlock," a new voice interjected, and Mary Margaret turned to beam at David Nolan as he stepped out of the crowd. "She's leaving. So leave her alone."

"How is this _my _fault?" the editor demanded, but Mary Margaret ignored whatever else he said, leading Victoria up the stairs to Archie's office as gently as she could. There was something seriously wrong with the other woman, and it seemed worse than the amnesia that Leroy believed it was. Hopefully Archie could help her, because Mary Margaret had no idea what to do with her.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Mary Margaret finally settled into a booth at Granny's having just enough time to get food before having to head out to class. She managed to catch Ruby's eye, and the waitress hurried towards her, only to be beaten by someone else.<p>

"Is this seat taken?" David Nolan asked with a smile.

Mary Margaret felt herself flush slightly, although she wasn't sure why. She knew that she shouldn't be attracted to this man—and she _wasn't!_—but there was something about David that drew her in. He was nothing like Jefferson or any of the other men she'd ever dated; he was kind, and Mary Margaret could talk to him for hours. They'd caught themselves doing that more than once, usually when David came to pick Henry up from the loft, but Mary Margaret knew they could only be friends. David was married, after all, and Regina was nothing like her horrible mother. Regina was a lovely woman, one who seemed trying to befriend Mary Margaret, too, and Mary Margaret would not do this to her.

"By you," she replied with an answering grin before she could stop herself.

David lowered himself into the seat just in time for Ruby to come over and take their orders, and then asked: "Is Vicky Scadlock okay? She looked pretty confused."

"Archie says that she's having a harder time than anyone else who was locked up in that terrible place. She seems to have replaced her memories with some fantasy about fairy tale characters and a whole 'nother world as a way of coping," she replied with a sigh. "He's going to try to help her sort things out."

"That's good, because her jerk of a husband doesn't seem terribly interested in doing that."

"Yeah." Francis Scadlock didn't seem like a bad man, but he was one of the mayor's closest toadies, and who you were friends with said a lot about people, in Mary Margaret's opinion. "He probably figured that his life didn't have room for a crazy wife, and was glad to be rid of her."

"I take it there's no news on why anyone was down there, other than Beauregard being locked up for putting them there?" David asked, and Mary Margaret shook her head.

"Nothing I've heard, but you're the one married to the mayor's assistant. And daughter."

He laughed. "Regina's staying far away from this one, and from me, it seems," David said lightly, and Mary Margaret found herself taking his hand before she could stop herself.

"Oh, no. Is something wrong?"

"You know, I have no idea. Regina and I have had our problems, but we seem to be better friends than ever, now…just not in love at all. It's not just her, either. I feel the same way. We talked about it last night, and, well, it's complicated."

Her heart did _not _leap at that thought. It didn't.

* * *

><p><span><em>5 Years Before the Curse<em>

They'd been on the run for two days when they ran into Red, made a horrendous faux pas in regards to who the dangerous werewolf in her village was, and then wound up taking the other young woman along with them while they worked to stay ahead of Cora's soldiers. Finally, when the black guards in the south of the kingdom had obviously been notified of their presence, the three of them settled down to hide in the woods, building a campsite that was so far off the beaten path that no one would find them. After their first night together, the three worked out a bit of a pattern, and right now Red was off hunting while David built a fire to cook whatever she brought back. Snow wasn't terribly good at hunting or fires, but she was learning quickly, the fascinated look on her face just made David smile.

"You're awfully good at this, for a prince," she said after a moment of listening to the new fire crackle. "Roughing it, I mean."

David shrugged, trying to come up with an excuse. "It's a useful skill to have."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Charming?"

"I do have a name," he pointed out, knowing he oughtn't. "You even know it."

Now it was Snow's turn to shrug. "You were just so different when I met you…James doesn't seem to fit. Not the way I know you now."

The way she knew him was via long distance courtship, courier-delivered letters, and a few days in a whirlwind of finding love at first sight and feeling it grow into something more. Their marriage was designed to be political, designed to merge two kingdoms together like some sort of business transaction, but it had ceased to be a convenience the moment Snow's older stepsister showed up and asked for his help rescuing her. What were they now? David wasn't sure. He knew that he was in love with Snow, that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered, and had the kindest soul besides. But the rest was a mystery.

"I, uh…well, what if I told you that there's a reason for that difference?" David asked before he could stop himself.

"I could have guessed that," she replied with a grin.

"James was my twin brother."

A moment of stunned silence passed before Snow yelped: _"What?"_

"Identical, of course," he added with a cheeky shrug.

"But…but King George never mentioned having two sons," Snow said, obviously confused. "And why wouldn't he? I'm sure Cora would have thought that was _great _news; then she could have married each of us to one of you and had everything."

Hearing the bitterness in Snow's voice made David reach out to take her hand. "It's not quite that simple," he explained. "It's…well, I grew up away from the palace. No one knew about me, until my brother died. I didn't ever know him, but I gather he was a little…"

"Arrogant? Conceited?" his love supplied immediately. "Utterly full of himself?"

"I was going to say obnoxious, but yes," he smiled back, having heard at length from George about how badly James' second meeting with both princesses went, and how he was absolutely _not _to repeat the same mistakes. Instinct, however, told David that it wasn't time to tell her the complete truth, that neither he nor his brother were actually George's sons. There were plenty of tales out there about princes who had been hidden away for their own safety, and although he felt a bit guilty for letting her believe that, it was probably safest. George wouldn't thank David for having said this much, but Snow at least deserved to know that he wasn't the idiot that had turned her off so thoroughly the first time.

"I knew it," she finally said.

"You did?"

Shrugging eloquently, she gave him a little smile. "Well, I knew there was something different about you, anyway. I don't think I could ever have fallen in love with a man like James."

"What about a man like me?" David asked without thinking.

Snow leaned in to kiss him lightly. "I think I already have."

* * *

><p>Coming home from the shop to find Belle and his daughter there was something akin to a miracle. Even Gold had dreamed more than once of returning to the pink mansion to find a scene like this: Belle with Renee on her lap, sitting on the couch with their daughter absolutely engrossed in the fairytale she was reading her. Just looking at them made his heart fill near to bursting, made a strange feeling of light and love push back even the darkness lurking within him. Renee might not have understood that Rumplestiltskin was her father, but he <em>could <em>carve out a place for himself in her life despite that. Explaining to her that he actually was her father might prove risky; an excited three year old was likely to share that knowledge with all and sundry. But he could still be there for her, and he _would_, Rumplestiltskin promised himself.

_I chose power over a child once. I will never, _ever _do that again._ It was a vow he had made a thousand times, and would make a thousand more, but Rumplestiltskin meant it. He would do everything he could, move mountains and destroy worlds—if that was what it took—to keep his family safe. _That _was a useful outlet for his darkness, and Rumplestiltskin felt the curse coiling in his mind, quieter here without magic but still an irrefutable part of him. It was not fond of _love, _did not like the way he felt for his family, but the curse understood determination and it understood violence. It would help protect his family, provided he kept it fed along the way.

The delicate balance between love and his darkness was one he'd struggled with for a long time, that he'd finally discovered after losing Bae and had clung to ever since. When Belle looked up at him with a radiant smile, however, it helped push the curse further down, because the way her eyes were shining made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," his wife said, and Rumplestiltskin limped around the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head.

"Hey yourself," he breathed, and felt his chest tighten as Renee looked up at him with his own big brown eyes. "And hello to you, too."

His daughter gave him a big smile, and then hesitated before asking: "Are you gonna be my Daddy?"

The question hit hard enough to make Rumplestiltskin stagger back a step; it was Belle who gasped:

"What—What gives you that idea, sweetie?"

"We move in," Renee answered solemnly, by which both her parents realized the little girl meant that she understood—probably from Lacey and Belle's stories—that was what happened when people moved in together. They became family.

"Moved," Belle corrected the child, obviously automatically, as her wide eyes found Rumplestiltskin's. They'd talked about this, had discussed the risks of telling Renee too much before she remembered she was Gabrielle…but looking at his daughter's hopeful eyes absolutely did Rumplestiltskin in.

Leaning his cane against the back of the couch, he reached out for the three year old (who wasn't really three; she'd been that age for so long that some extra development was bound to happen, and he rather suspected that a side effect of the curse would be extra-early maturity for most of the children who had been cursed). Belle handed her over immediately, and Rumplestiltskin hefted his daughter into his arms so that he could look her in the eye.

"Would you like that?" he asked softly, a little hesitantly. Renee had always liked Gold—and Gold, bless his armored little heart, had adored her—but this was something he'd been entirely unprepared for.

But Renee just nodded.

"Well, then," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile. "I will be."

Small arms wrapped around his neck, and in that moment, Rumplestiltskin didn't care what dangers Cora could pose; he had his family together again and he would not let them go. _Now all I have to do is get the curse broken and find Bae. _But he could not change that now. Now, he just held his daughter close and tried to find a little peace.

* * *

><p>A few hours after dinner, with Renee finally asleep, Rumplestiltskin and Belle finally made it to the room that had become theirs. They'd both been so desperate the night before, so relieved and so in love that they'd barely bothered with words—a name here, a kiss there, and they'd utterly lost themselves in one another. It had been twenty-eight years since they'd knowingly been together, and even though their cursed selves had been in love, and neither had been terribly aware of time passing, both Belle and Rumplestiltskin had felt the need to make up for lost time. Partially exhausted from her ordeal in the fire and partially high on emotion, Belle felt like she'd experienced the previous night in something of a dream. Their clothes had wound up in various piles on the floor, and she wasn't sure that Rumple's suit would ever be wearable again. She was certain that her clothes weren't; she'd torn <em>something<em> in her rush to get them off, and Belle still didn't care what. That morning had been time for serious conversation, for tending to the child that the curse had thankfully left with her, and then for Rumple to head to work. Now that their second night in the pink mansion was approaching, she wanted to show him how much she had missed _him_.

"Dinner was delicious," she told him, feeling a little guilty. But she couldn't help turning it into a bit of a tease: "I wasn't sure if you'd still be able to cook now that you woke up."

Her husband chuckled. "I _could _cook back in the Enchanted Forest, thank you very much. I just used magic to do it in the Dark Castle because I couldn't be bothered."

"And because I was a terrible cook," Belle agreed with a giggle. No one ever taught ladies to cook, after all; that was something that servants did. Her first few attempts had been hardly edible, and her then-cranky employer had decreed that his magic would handle the food from that moment forward after a particularly burned and lumpy attempt at beef stew.

"Lacey wasn't particularly talented on that front, either," Rumplestiltskin pointed out with a smile, hanging his suit jacket up in the closet they now shared.

"No, Lacey was more the microwave, pasta, and ready-made meal kind of girl," she said, pausing to admire her husband. Oh, she missed the silk and leather he'd worn in the Enchanted Forest—particularly the leather pants, come to think of it—but Belle had to admit that this world's dark suits also looked fabulous on him. Stepping forward, she kissed him lightly. "Gold was always the gourmet."

That made him chuckle, and brought up that self-conscious half smile Belle had always loved. "Well, I'm glad to be of service."

Neither of them mentioned how sad it was that Gold had been the one who cooked himself beautiful and tasty meals every night, the lonely bachelor who ate and drank without anyone there to share it with him. Lacey had been there, from time to time, but their stolen moments had been few and far between. Gold's life had been perfect, on the surface: he had power, immense wealth, immaculate taste, and the skills to make his life even more comfortable, but Cora's design had left him utterly alone. Belle knew without asking that the curse had not intended to allow them to come together, and she knew Rumple hadn't, either. _But I'm glad we did,_ she thought. _Even if Rumple worries about us, I'm glad he wasn't completely alone._

"I think I'm going to have to find a way to repay you," Belle replied, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as he tugged his tie free. "You're cooking for us, working during the day, sending Dove off to buy things…"

Her smile was nothing if not suggestive, but her infuriating husband misinterpreted what she was saying. "Sweetheart, you don't have to repay me—"

Belle kissed him to shut his protests up. "I had something a little more personal in mind," she told him bluntly, still reveling in being able to kiss him.

Of course, she'd always been able to kiss this face, or at least the one time he'd worn it for her, for those two lovely months in Amorveria. So, Belle didn't feel as odd as she might have; although the two faces had long since merged in her mind, she knew the difference. And she _liked _this human face of his, despite Rumplestiltskin's silly worry that she wouldn't. He looked older than her here, but he was still handsome in a slender and sharp-edged kind of way. She loved him no matter what he looked like, but the feel of human hands against her skin was one she had missed.

"Oh. Well, then."

That seemed all he was able to say, but Belle knew it wasn't from lack of desire. She could read that in his eyes easily enough; human or reptilian, they were the same underneath the outward veneer: warm and loving and sometimes so uncertain. So, she smiled against his lips and started working on the buttons of his shirt, determined to take things slower than their desperate lovemaking of the night before. Rumplestiltskin kissed her next, moving to unzip her dress as he did so, and Belle shivered appreciatively.

"I love you," she whispered, shrugging out of the dress. It was one that had been in the back of his shop—she still hadn't gone shopping and bought clothes more in keeping with Lacey's habits—but was mercifully easy to get off.

He pulled back to look at her, his warm eyes filling with love and awe. "And I love you."

"Good," Belle grinned, and she felt Rumplestiltskin's soft laugh as he pulled her close. Gold's touch had been able to light Lacey on fire, and Rumplestiltskin's worked the same effect on her, just tenfold. Lacey had never understood why she was so drawn to Gold, or why no one else saw in him what she did, but Belle knew. And Belle loved him all the more for it.

One of them finally tossed his shirt and aside, and they fell onto the bed together, still wrapped in one another's arms and with her on top. Belle started kissing her way down his chest, reaching for his belt as she did so. She kept her eyes on his face, a watching his expression soften. He'd loosened his grip enough to let her move, but Belle sought out his left hand with her right, needing to hold onto him to prove to herself this wasn't a dream. Fingers squeezed hers, and Belle smiled. The fingers of her other hand moved down his right side as Rumplestiltskin quivered; she knew how ticklish he was and was and had no problems taking advantage of that fact. She planted a kiss on his sternum and kept working her way downwards, but Belle stopped when her lips hit a raised area of skin. Rumplestiltskin tensed—and not in a good way.

Belle's eyes snapped downwards as she sat up. She hadn't noticed the welts last night; they'd been too desperate for one another and too lonely, and Rumple had gotten out of the shower before she'd woken up. But now she could see them, raised but fading red marks against pale skin. They started on his stomach and disappeared below his belt, and she looked up at him in horror.

"Rumple?" Belle asked quietly, completely forgetting about sex.

He sat up abruptly. "I told you that I didn't want to talk about it."

"Cora." The name grated out from between gritted teeth, and Belle had never hated someone as much as she hated the Evil Queen in that moment.

Her husband didn't answer; he just looked away and closed his eyes. Belle shifted closer to him, still holding his left hand in her right, and reached out to touch his face. He twitched, and then leaned into her touch. The twitch, however, told her a horrible story that Belle wasn't sure she wanted to know, much though she needed to. Had Lacey ever seen marks like this, she wondered, searching her memory? No, Belle didn't think so. Lacey had known Cora was hurting him, but Gold always seemed to wait until the marks faded to let Lacey see anything.

_Twenty-eight years. This has been going on for _twenty-eight _years._ For the first time in her life, Belle really wanted to murder someone. But she throttled back her fury. She could see from the tense lines in his shoulders that Rumplestiltskin clearly did not want to talk about this, but she could also tell that he wasn't dealing with it well. Not at all.

"Oh, Rumple," she whispered, and was so glad when he didn't pull away. "It's worse than Gold ever let Lacey know, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted softly.

"Why can't you fight her?" Belle had to ask. "This…"

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. "Because her second caveat makes it so I _can't_," he whispered raggedly. "Literally. The first brings me to her bed. The second makes me submit."

"But why does she hurt you?" It made no sense. Belle knew that Cora had been Rumple's student once, so many years ago, and that they'd had a falling out. But they'd worked together, on and off, to see that the Dark Curse was cast, although that was more a case of Rumplestiltskin goading Cora when required and holding her back when not. Rumple had been very wary of giving her so much power, and had told Belle a hundred times how dangerous Cora could be to their family, but he'd never explained why.

"Because she can," he replied bitterly.

"That's not an answer."

A shaky sigh tore out of him in response, and Belle pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and grateful for the way Rumplestiltskin melted into her, his own arms slowly returning the embrace. "It's about power," he explained, although Belle heard the note in his voice that always warned her he was leaving something out even as her fingers stroked his hair comfortingly. "And she rather enjoys it."

"Oh." Those last five words made Belle swallow hard, and made her disregard her instinct that said there was something more going on here. She could ask later; for now, Rumple needed her, and she wouldn't let him down. Still, she had to ask: "How bad?"

"Not badly enough that I don't want you," he said softly, bringing his head up, and Belle looked deeply into his brown eyes, seeing uncertainty and conflict there, but most of all love.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "It's not new."

"Will it?" Belle pressed, pinning him with a look that allowed for no argument.

"A little," Rumplestiltskin admitted, his gaze skittering away from hers.

"Then I'm not—"

"Belle, please," he cut her off in a whisper. "I love you. I want _you_. And…and it helps me not think of her. Not think of everything." Brown eyes met blue. "I trust you."

She swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Utterly."

Rumplestiltskin kissed her again, and Belle let herself lose herself in his embrace. He needed this, and she probably did, too; even if it wasn't the healthiest option. It wasn't the worst thing they could do, either, and if Belle detected a hint of desperation in her husband's touch, she was able to soothe that away. He was hurt worse than Lacey had ever guessed, but tonight was not the time to attack that. First, she needed to prove to him that she _was _there for him, that he wasn't alone. Later, Belle could weasel the rest of the truth out of him. She had time, and she wasn't going to let him face this alone.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Don't worry Neal/Baelfire fans; this isn't the only time you'll see him. However, that flashback will be important as we move forward in the story, so don't forget it!_

_Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Five: "Looking," in which something important is recovered from the fire, Cora thwarts Emma, romantic feelings stir between David and Mary Margaret (and Regina and Errol), and Cora learns Lacey is living with Gold. Back in the past, Zelena comes to the Enchanted Forest, and Snow and Charming return to George's kingdom. _


	25. Chapter 25: Looking

_**Chapter Twenty-Five—"Looking"**_

* * *

><p>Dove delivered the blue and gold chest the next day, having snagged it from the fire department without offering much in the way of explanation, and Rumplestiltskin very consciously chose not to ask if his all-around handyman had simply stolen the chest. Whatever had driven Dove to do so, his instincts were spot on: not only did his employer want the chest, but Rumplestiltskin (or Gold, as Dove still thought of him) wanted its miraculously unburnt status kept quiet. <em>Very <em>quiet. If Cora heard that one single chest had survived without so much as getting scorched, she'd rightly assume that the item was magical, or at least enchanted against damage. She would have been right, too, and although she probably couldn't have opened the chest, Rumplestiltskin still didn't want it falling in her hands.

After calling him, Dove delivered the chest to the house, where it was waiting when Rumplestiltskin came home from the shop early. Although he'd managed to forget about the chest in between waking up, Belle still being Lacey, and the fire, he was now extremely glad to see that it had survived. He beat Belle and Gabrielle—trying to call her Renee, at least within his own mind, was something of a losing battle—home by a few minutes. They returned with Dove in tow, with Belle and Dove both dumping their newest purchases in the front room to join the others that had clearly been dropped off earlier.

Rumplestiltskin offered Dove one of Gold's rare smiles. "Thank you, Dove," he said with a nod.

"Glad to help, boss," was the easy reply; Dove was a man of few words, and he had been the only one who knew that Belle (or Lacey, technically) was living with Gold until today. Oh, others would figure it out quickly enough, but Dove was the only one who Rumplestiltskin actually trusted with the hint that Lacey was far more than a live-in maid. Dove's loyalty, however, was beyond reproach. He wasn't just Gold's all-around troubleshooter; he had also served Rumplestiltskin in the same capacity back in the Enchanted Forest, although Dove obviously did not remember that. So, Rumplestiltskin had no worries that Dove would suddenly turn elsewhere when his original personality started to assert itself.

Even back home, Dove had been one of the very few people whom Rumplestiltskin trusted with knowledge that his wife even existed. It was rather fitting that he did the same here.

The tall man left the family alone with another brusque nod; Belle gave him a smile and a kiss on the cheek before he departed, obviously remembering him, too. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Dove had been a strangely long-lived shapeshifter. He'd originally been a man, though he'd been cursed into dove form by the sorcerer whom Rumplestiltskin had taken the Dark Castle off of centuries earlier. The Dark One had not discovered Dove's existence until he'd been in the castle for a long time, and he'd only turned him back into human form (temporarily, it turned out) on a whim. The enchantment on Dove was powerful, and it had taken Rumplestiltskin years to discover how to break it. By then, Dove had already become his jack of all trades, and was quite content with being able to _choose_ between his human and avian forms. So, Rumplestiltskin had left control of his form in Dove's hands, and had never regretted the loyalty that bought him.

Dove had always been good with Gabrielle, too. She'd had Dove wrapped around her little finger back home, and it looked like Renee was already fond of him here in Storybrooke, even after only having known him for two days. But Rumplestiltskin was glad to see it; huge shapeshifter or no, Dove had always been good with children. He'd been the only person Rumplestiltskin had trusted with Gabrielle's existence in the Enchanted Forest, and cursed or not, Rumplestiltskin knew he could trust him here.

"Up!" Renee toddled over to him to demand.

Inwardly cursing his bad leg, Rumplestiltskin leaned his cane against the wall and bent to pick his three year old up. He could balance her on his left hip well enough, provided he was careful, but it was a technique he'd long ago perfected with Bae. He'd just never thought he'd need to use it again, or at least not after becoming the Dark One. Still, the grim irony inherent in that thought vanished when Renee wrapped her arms around his neck. It was amazing how quickly Renee had embraced him as a part of her life; after two days in his home, she already seemed to have decided that she belonged.

"Did you buy anything interesting?" he asked with a smile.

"Lots!" she declared, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled as he glanced Belle's way.

"I fear we may have put a serious dent in your bank account," his wife said, blushing a little.

"Sweetheart, do you have any idea how rich I am?"

"Um. No?" Belle shrugged, bending to pick up a bag of dolls and other toys. "I guess I never asked."

Retrieving his cane, Rumplestiltskin limped over to kiss his wife on the cheek. "Let's just say that I don't need to spin gold in this world," he murmured. "Besides, I _did _tell you to buy whatever you wanted."

"I think we went a little overboard," she admitted.

"No such thing. Did you find a new crocodile?"

"We did. The last one that the Wonderful Toymaker had, actually," Belle replied, even as Renee piped up:

"This one's bigger!"

"And better?" he asked his daughter.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh."

"That's wonderful, princess," Rumplestiltskin replied, and then settled Renee down on the couch and turned on the television. Renee's new favorite movie was _Aladdin_, and like any three year old, she could watch her favorites a hundred times in a row before she got sick of them, so he pushed play and let the movie pick up where it had left off the day before. After all, it wasn't like he had to worry about _Belle's _daughter receiving an insufficient education; she'd undoubtedly be reading long before anyone else her age. She'd always been bright, and Rumplestiltskin wasn't worried about television changing that.

Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead and turned back to Belle once Renee was engrossed. "Did you see what else Dove brought by?"

"No, I…" Turning made her trail off. "The chest! I'd completely forgotten—but it was in my apartment all along, wasn't it?"

"And it didn't burn, of course," Rumplestiltskin replied, coming over to stand next to his wife. _It damn well better not have, with all the protections I wove around it._

Belle turned to him with a glowing smile. "Should we open it?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Go on."

The chest was keyed to open for either one of them, an intricate act of blood magic that had taken weeks to assemble, so Belle crouched to open press her hand against what looked like a lock on the front. It wasn't, and no keys or lock picking would have opened it, either. Even if Cora _had _gotten ahold of the chest, she would never have been able to pry it open without magic. Still, Rumplestiltskin was glad not to have to take that risk, because inside that chest were the few items so valuable to them that neither Rumplestiltskin nor Belle wanted to trust the curse to bring them over. No, they'd depended upon his magic for that. And because they'd known that Cora would probably not put them together, Rumplestiltskin had tied the chest to Belle, to make sure that it would follow _her_. After all, Cora was bound to watch him closely and ignore her, and the tactic had worked.

He felt the slight _snap _of magic in the air, and noticed how Renee twitched slightly, obviously feeling it but not knowing what that slight tickle was. The chest clicked open after a second or two, and Belle lifted the top to reveal the precious possessions they had decided they could not do without. Their chipped cup sat on top…right next to a glowing purple vial of True Love potion.

* * *

><p>That same morning, two days after the fire—two blessedly Keith Law-free days—Cora walked into the sheriff's station with that same former deputy on her heels. Emma had been talking to Ruby, who really <em>was <em>interested in stopping working for her grandmother (maybe), but the spooked look on the waitress' face warned her that Cora had come in even though Emma's back was to the door. Keith was smirking, but Emma didn't care; she'd made her decision, and she wasn't going to change her mind no matter how much Cora tried to bully her. The fact that Keith had obviously waited until he was sober to go running to the mayor—_Such a pity that he didn't interrupt her little dinner party!—_was a bit worrisome, because Emma was sure that a sober Keith was a lying Keith.

Hell, he lied when he was drunk, too. At least the jerk was consistent.

She'd heard that a few of the firefighters found Keith passed out in the gutter the night she'd fired him, and had been kind enough to haul him home and pour him into his own bed. Knowing Keith, he'd spent most of the next morning puking, and then he must have gone to Cora. Why it had taken him a whole day to show up with her was a mystery, but Emma supposed that Keith was not exactly at the top of Cora's list of priorities. Not that she could blame the older woman for that. Cora was a bitch and an autocrat, but she wasn't stupid, and probably didn't like Keith any more than Emma did.

"Madam Mayor," Emma greeted her with a smile, feeling magnanimous now that she was on the hunt for a new deputy. Or two, maybe. She'd checked out the city budget the evening before, and apparently she actually had funding for three deputies. The books even indicated that Graham had possessed three deputies in his early days as sheriff, but one had died in some accident (Daniel Hari, the dead husband who Mary Margaret almost never talked about), and the other was on a leave of absence (Gary Rathbone). That meant Emma could definitely hire one, maybe two, _competent _people, and that made her feel pretty good.

"I'll keep this short, Miss Swan," Cora replied imperiously. "You're not authorized to fire Deputy Law, so he's reinstated. Effective immediately."

"The hell I can't." Emma was on her feet and facing Cora before she even realized she wanted to move, but Ruby had backed up a step or two when Cora's eyes flashed. "I'm the sheriff. I can hire or—"

"You can _hire_, dear. That's what the city charter says. It says nothing about firing."

"You've got to be kidding me. It's implied," Emma snorted.

"But not explicitly stated," Cora replied with a smug smile. "And, more importantly, the City Council decided that you do not have such authority at yesterday's meeting."

"They what?" There was no way Cora could act that fast or could have the City Council wrapped _that _tightly around her finger. "I want to see that in writing."

"I thought you'd never ask," was the purred response, and Cora held out a folder in a perfectly-manicured hand.

Snatching it from her, Emma flipped the folder open and read the single sheet of paper inside with a sinking heart. Cora really _did _have all her bases covered, didn't she? The paper was a Finding by the Storybrooke City Council that although the sheriff could hire a qualified applicant in accordance with the City Charter, any firings would have to be approved by the City Council itself. The motion had passed by a slim margin, only two votes, but it had passed. The appropriate signatures were there…and that meant Emma was stuck. With Keith.

"This is ridiculous," she said around the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Swan," Cora replied congenially, but her eyes were flashing. "We're a small town, and we _do _care about one another. That means we can't have a newcomer replacing our trusted police force with her own toadies."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

Cora smiled acidly. "Well, it certainly isn't now." She turned to Keith. "Congratulations, Deputy Law. Do please let me know if the Sheriff tries to do anything else illegal. I'm sure that the City Council would be happy to replace her."

"My pleasure," Keith replied, throwing a nasty look at Emma.

All she could do was glare back at her deputy while Cora sauntered out.

* * *

><p>The third day after the fire—December 15th—found Rumplestiltskin in his shop once more. As much has he would have preferred to just close the pawnshop entirely and spend all of his time with Belle and Gabrielle, he knew that he couldn't; appearances had to be maintained, and besides, the shop was his connection to the outside world. No one came there unless they needed something, but he had already noticed several individuals expressing interest in items that had belonged to them before the curse. It was a small thing, but important: one of the dwarves—the one most recently released from the asylum, Grumpy—kept coming back to stare at the drinking steins, David Nolan had been by to look at the unicorn mobile, and there were others.<p>

What surprised him most, however, was that Regina hadn't been by since the fire. Her boy had been caught in the library with Belle, Rumplestiltskin knew, and Regina was likely both shaken and furious, but that usually brought her to him. She certainly couldn't turn to Cora—not when her mother's actions had nearly killed her son—but he'd not come to him, either. That set him on edge when he headed out to collect rents that afternoon, deciding that he'd do so early and then head home. Belle was still only a mediocre cook, even with Lacey's knowledge to back her, and any time spent at home with his family was far more pleasant than staying in the shop.

* * *

><p>There was something about watching the two of them that reminded Emma of two dangerous animals circling one another, but for the life of her, she couldn't' figure out which was predator and which was prey. The mayor and the pawnbroker had met on the sidewalk outside the sheriff's station, and although Emma could see them through the window, she couldn't hear what they were saying. Gold, however, seemed utterly unfazed by Cora's threatening smile, unlike everyone else in this odd little town. Even Regina knuckled under when her mother pressed. <em>Everyone <em>was afraid of the mayor.

Except Gold. What was it about the shady pawnbroker that frightened people? Emma had only met him twice, back when she'd made that deal with him and when he'd suggested she put herself in for sheriff, and she'd meant to ask Regina about Gold after both encounters but never had. Now, watching Gold smile at Cora coolly, she doubled up on that mental note. Henry thought Gold was 'the Beast' from his book, but that meant nothing to Emma. She wanted to know what this smooth-talking pawnbroker was really up to.

* * *

><p>"A live-in maid?" Cora was asking, amusement evident in her tone. "Really, Gold? That's a terribly slender pretext, even for you."<p>

Rumplestiltskin let his cold smile color his quiet chuckle. "Oh, I assure you, dear. I'm getting my money's worth."

Those words would travel, he knew, but he kept his aloof expression in place. People would think that Gold had hired Lacey French to be much more than a maid; his cursed self was almost as easy to think the worst of as Rumplestiltskin himself was. They would think poor Lacey his concubine, or worse. As distasteful as that assumption was, however, it would keep Belle and Gabrielle safe. So, he didn't care if people in Storybrooke thought him a monster. _I _am _a monster_, _anyway. What does it matter if they come to the right conclusions for all the wrong reasons?_

"Oh, come now." Cora smiled, stepping in close, her voice now low and dangerous. "We both know you're not _that _cold-blooded."

"Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think." Rumplestiltskin shrugged, ignoring the insinuation in her voice. It was a very Gold-like thing to say, slippery and evasive, but suspicion glinted in Cora's eyes, anyway. A shiver ran down Rumplestiltskin's spine. He had to be careful.

"I think I know you quite well," she purred, reaching out to toy with the front of his suit jacket, brushing aside imaginary dust. Rumplestiltskin burned to slap her hand away, but a part of him was as paralyzed as Gold would have been. Cora would make him pay for such a blatant act of defiance later, and he desperately wanted to go _home _to his family that evening.

"You know how I love a good mystery," he replied with a sharp smile, but then his heart sank as Cora returned to the topic he was trying so valiantly to avoid.

"And here I thought you would have uncovered all of your new maid's mysteries already," she said, each word heavy with irony. And then she smiled. "Do tell me that you're going to make her get rid of the brat. I can't imagine you putting up with a squalling bastard in your lovely home for long."

The tendrils of the curse reached out for him as Cora spoke, and Rumplestiltskin stiffened as he felt them go to work. Had he _not _known who he was, _Gold_ might well have succumbed to the pressure. Cora's power over all of Storybrooke might have actually forced him to comply. But maybe not. The curse _was _weakening—he could feel that now, and it felt like victory—and even Gold might have successfully fought against forcing his lover to give up her precious child. But that didn't matter. Nor did the pleasant images of Cora's head ripped off of her shoulders and bouncing down the street running through his mind. For once, the sliver of a soul inside him was in complete agreement with his curse: Cora needed to _die_, both to satisfy the raging need for vengeance and to protect his family. But no. Not now. For now what mattered was that not even the power of the Dark Curse could force him to obey her will. Not anymore.

"What, and deal with Miss French squalling instead?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed dismissively. "I'd rather deal with the child than that."

Cora scowled, but she couldn't use one of her caveats, and she obviously knew it. One could make him come to her and the other could govern his physical actions, but the latter—the 'now'—was short lived. Cora had found that out years earlier when she'd tried to send Gold in search of a certain dagger. Rumplestiltskin's alter ego had proven surprisingly obstinate, and Cora's hold could not last long enough to force him to find and deliver it. Protecting that dagger had been the one imperative that Rumplestiltskin had concentrated on imbuing in his memory-less self as the curse cloud engulfed him, and it had worked, much to Cora's displeasure.

Thwarting her, however, always came at a price.

"Let's discuss that," she said coldly, unnecessarily smoothing out his lapels. Her touch made him shiver. "Tonight, dear."

* * *

><p><span><em>14 Years Before the Curse<em>

Zelena had waited almost an hour for this audience, but she didn't mind. Her mother was a _queen, _after all, and was undoubtedly busy. Zelena wished she'd known about Queen Cora sooner, but until the Wizard had told her about her _real _mother, she'd had no way to know. Her drunk of an adopted father had certainly never had the courage to tell Zelena that she was descended from royalty, but wouldn't he be envious of her now? Zelena smoothed her dress out one last time, making sure that she looked her best. She was going to impress her mother. She knew it.

Finally, the herald announced her, and Zelena strode into the throne room, trying not to gawk. Even the Wizard's palace had not been so luxurious; she didn't think anywhere in Oz was! The two figures seated on the thrones were majestic and so very regal looking, both dressed in clothing that would have cost over a year of her adopted father's wages. _The beautiful woman must be my mother, _she thought, striding forward with her head held high. _She is so regal. I take after her. I know it._

Sweeping a graceful curtsey, Zelena kept her head down, waiting for her mother to address her. Surely Queen Cora knew about her! Or maybe she'd only wondered what had happened when someone stole her child away. Because Zelena knew she must have been stolen away. Nothing else could explain why she'd been given up, and her mother was sure to recognize her. Much to her surprise, it was the king—her stepfather—who spoke up kindly, while her mother looked on with detached aloofness.

"And who are you, My Lady?"

"My name is Zelena," she said with a smile, looking up to meet those welcoming eyes. "I've come from Oz to—"

A twitch of her mother's fingers cut her off; Zelena felt magic race out and shock took her breath away. No matter that everyone in the room—guards, heralds, and even the king—were frozen. She wasn't alone! She had inherited her magic from her mother. The Wizard had told her that her mother had married a king, not that Cora was a witch. A sorceress. Just like her. _See, Papa, it _isn't _unnatural, _Zelena thought spitefully, victory surging through her bones. She was her mother's daughter, and pride made her straighten and finish strongly:

"I've come to find my mother."

"Of course you have," Cora replied, rising from her throne and stepping gracefully off the dais. "But whatever made you think that a royal audience was the time to approach me?"

The censure in her mother's tone made Zelena flinch. "I—I couldn't speak to you another time. There was no other way. They wouldn't let me in."

"Are you _trying _to ruin me, you silly girl?"

"No!" The very thought horrified her, and Zelena stared. "I only wanted—I thought—I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Calculation whipped across Cora's features, but settled on a smile that warmed Zelena's heart. "Of course I am, dear. But you can't simply barge in and tell my husband the king that I have a child he did not know about."

"Of course not," Zelena agreed quickly, too stung by the rebuke to notice the self-centered insincerity in Cora's voice. "I'm sorry."

Cora reached her side and patted her arm, and Zelena felt a smile tugging on her own lips. "I can see that. I don't doubt that you'll be a dutiful daughter, Zelena, but we must act with caution. I can allow nothing to damage my power base. If that happens, I will not be able to help you. Do you understand?"

"I think I do," she replied eagerly. _She wants to help me!_ Zelena could already imagine herself bedecked in jewels, with some handsome prince twirling her on the dance floor. She would make her mother proud. She knew it. "My adopted family, they never understood me," she volunteered. "My magic—"

"You have magic?" Suddenly, Cora looked very interested.

"Yes." Seeing her mother pleased made Zelena glow happily.

"Then I know exactly what to do with you," her mother said with another smile. "We must keep your identity secret for now—_our _secret—but I can send you to someone so that you might learn to use your magic."

"You won't teach me yourself?" She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was hard.

"Darling, I am Queen. My husband depends upon me to help manage the kingdom," Cora pointed out, and Zelena made herself nod. Of course. Her mother was undoubtedly too busy. But then Cora added: "Besides, I can send you to the most powerful sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest. He taught me, and I know he will teach you, too."

"He will?" _Mother is going to send me to her teacher!_ Zelena thought excitedly, happiness like she'd never felt warming her soul. She would do everything she could to make Cora proud.

"I am sure he will." There was a twinkle in Cora's eyes, and Zelena imagined her mother was as happy to be reunited with her as she was. "Just tell Rumplestiltskin that you are my first born daughter. I _know _he will be delighted to teach you."

* * *

><p>Renee had been in bed for hours by the time the front door opened, but Belle was still awake. Although she'd been curled up on the couch reading a book, she was on her feet the instant she heard a key turn in the lock, <em>The Count of Monte Cristo <em>completely forgotten. She met her husband in the front hall as he closed the front door behind himself, leaning more heavily than usual on his cane. Belle's heart went out to him; she could see the tension in his shoulders and in the way his hands were trying to shake, just the way she'd seen Gold fighting back pain and fear a hundred-plus times.

"Rumple," she breathed, and at least he walked straight into her arms and didn't try to pull away like Gold sometimes did to Lacey.

"Oh, Belle," he whispered, and she could hear the catch in his voice.

Holding him tightly, Belle came up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Fury made her heart pound in her ears, but now wasn't the time for that. Lacey had always known that Cora hurt Gold, but she had never realized how bad it was. Gold hadn't wanted to tell her, and then Rumplestiltskin had stayed away to keep her and their daughter safe, but Belle was no fool. She knew that Cora was hurting him worse and worse as time went by. Maybe that was because time was starting to move, or maybe Cora just sensed the curse weakening and wanted to lash out. Either way, Belle truly wanted someone dead for the first time in her life. She was usually the forgiving sort, but this was beyond the pale. How _could _one human being do that to another?

"Are you all right?" she asked, wishing she knew something more useful to say.

Her husband laughed mirthlessly. "Better now," he said quietly, but he didn't let go of her right away, and Belle felt his shoulders shake. "I love you."

"And I love you," Belle replied fiercely. "And I'll be here for you, no matter what that horrible woman does to you."

"I know." Rumplestiltskin's voice was small and tight, but at least he nodded. Belle leaned back slightly to cut his face in her right hand, keeping her left arm around him.

"Tell me it won't be much longer," she whispered more desperately than she wanted to. "I can't bear watching her hurt you."

He snorted. "Our Savior's a bit more stubborn than any of us expected, but the curse is weakening. We're getting there, sweetheart. And even if it takes months more…this is a small price to pay if it gets us to Bae."

"This _isn't _a price for your actions, Rumple," Belle cut in before he could continue, knowing her husband far too well. "You don't deserve this, no matter what mistakes you have made. Don't think like that. Do you hear me? You _do not _deserve this."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, and when he apologized like that, Belle knew he was worn out and hurting so badly. So, she just took his left hand in her right.

"Let's get you upstairs, okay? Maybe then you'll tell me about what happened."

Rumplestiltskin's expression closed off as he limped forward, and she thought she detected a certain stiffness in his motions that was not normal. "I don't want to talk about it, sweetheart."

"I can't help you if I don't know, Rumple."

"I don't need help!" The words came out with force that seemed to surprise him as much as they did Belle, but she could see him desperately crawling inside his shell even as he opened his mouth to apologize for the outburst. She cut him off with a look.

"Rumple."

He sighed, turning away to stare at the kitchen. "I'm sorry."

"I know," she said softly, stepping forward so that her right shoulder brushed his left. Belle burned to wrap an arm around his waist, but knowing Cora, that would hurt him, so she settled with leaning her head lightly against his shoulder and not letting go of his hand. "Will you trust me?"

"Of course I will." And at least that made him finally look back at her.

"Then let me help you."

Suddenly, she was in his arms again, and Belle could feel Rumplestiltskin's face buried in her hair. His cane clattered to the floor, and his grip was desperately tight. But she didn't complain. She just let him cling to her, wrapping her arms around him in exchange and holding him close.

"I'll try," he whispered, and Belle could hear the pain in his voice. "It's just hard. I'm just…"

"Scared," she finished for him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You'd have to be inhuman not to be—and _don't _tell me you're a monster. You're not."

She could hear his watery laugh against her neck. "It hurts," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "Everything just…hurts."

Stroking his hair and holding him close, Belle made no mention of her own desire to see Cora dead. Mentioning it now was meaningless, but the same woman who had nearly killed Belle and her daughter was torturing the man she loved. Cora had to be stopped, and more than that, Belle wanted revenge. It was such an alien feeling to her, to feel this strong and hot burn for vengeance, but she wasn't going to stand by and let Cora hurt Rumplestiltskin. Not any longer than she had to. They'd get the curse broken, and then they'd stop her. Together.

* * *

><p>Inconclusive. Emma stared at the report in front of her—the one Errol Forrester had snuck her a copy of since the mayor didn't seem to think that the investigation was the sheriff's business. Despite the fact that there was some evidence that the doors had been locked (the report said 'some' because what remained of the doors had seemed to be locked in the immediate aftermath of the fire, but when the photographer had gone around the day after, what remained of them hadn't been locked at all), apparently there was 'nothing the slightest bit suspect' about the fire. Despite the four different point sources for the fire that could definitely be identified, plus two others the firefighters suspected. It was <em>ridiculous<em>, and stank of a cover up, but if the D.A. wasn't willing to press charges, which he wasn't, and Emma didn't have any evidence pointing to any one in particular, there was nothing she could do.

Errol had obviously felt that there was something fishy about the fire he'd so brazenly jumped into, but his conclusions seemed to have been watered down by the district attorney's office, too. The only good thing about the entire mess was that it had at least cleared Lacey French of any wrongdoing, which meant that the town would finally have to pay for all of her burned belongings. Cora would hate that, so Emma supposed it was something of a victory.

Still, the whitewashed investigation was a steaming pile of crap, and Emma felt angrier about _that _than she did about having to rehire Keith. Cora really did like her power games, and Emma was starting to think that there really was something very _wrong _with this town. Something more than she'd thought before.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

Two months after Regina helped Snow escape Cora, she and David finally arrived at King George's palace. They'd been on the run for that entire time, sometimes barely ahead of Cora's henchmen. They'd saved one another time and again, and had Cora's Huntsman/Captain of the Guard deliberately avoid tracking them at least twice. Snow was so grateful for the Huntsman letting them go, and she so wished that she could thank him, but the Huntsman had faded back into the trees both times before she could get a word in edgewise, leading the hunt away from her. Regina had warned her that Cora had the Huntsman's heart, so the only guess Snow had was that her stepmother had ordered him to _find _her, and had not been specific enough that the Huntsman had to bring Snow back after doing so. Having had her heart ripped out and having been commanded by Cora, Snow knew how the Huntsman must feel, and she pitied him.

_Perhaps someday we can help him in return, _she thought as she followed David into the council chamber. His father, King George, was waiting for them, and though Snow felt that she looked like anything but her best after two months on the run, she strode into the room with her head held high. Dressed like a bandit though she might be, Snow knew she was still a princess—and technically, now that her beloved father was dead, a queen.

"Ah, my son returns!" George turned to them with a smile that was only skin deep. Snow had been in politics practically since birth, and she could read even a seasoned politician. George greeted David with pleasure, but he felt little affection for this second son of his. _I wonder why he sent David away?_ Snow knew she might never be able to ask; David had sworn her to secrecy on the subject, but she hoped someday to know the answer.

"Hello, Father," David replied, and the same stiffness was in him. He clearly wasn't sure what to think of George, either. "Please allow me to re-introduce—"

"Princess Snow." Stepping forward, George took her hand, dirty and unkempt though it was and kissed the back lightly.

"Your Majesty." Managing a proper curtsey when wearing a bandit's ragged outfit was hard, but Snow did her best. "Thank you for taking me in. I owe you my life."

"Indeed you do," the king replied with a smug smile. His sharp eyes, however, studied Snow closely. "Your stepmother has declared you are guilty of treason, treachery, and murder. She says you committed regicide."

Snow stiffened, but she had spent months mourning her beloved father and had learned to move past it. Now she wanted revenge on the woman who had killed him. "My stepmother is a sorceress," she retorted. "She poisoned my father and blamed me."

"Good!" George praised her. "You say that very convincingly. Stick to that story and we'll have no problems making the people of both of our kingdoms believe it."

"It's true!"

"Princess, I don't care who killed your father. I care that you—and my son—are going to inherit that throne and combine our kingdoms," the king replied with a shrug. "Your claims of innocence are enough for me."

He didn't believe her. Snow stared incredulously at George for a long moment, and then turned helplessly to David. He looked less surprised than she felt—maybe he was used to George's cold-blooded outlook on the world—but Snow just didn't know what to say. She'd never had a king doubt her like this, and she certainly hadn't expected him not to _care _if she was innocent or not. But he really didn't, did he? _And he's right. It doesn't matter. _Taking a deep breath, Snow steeled herself against the thousand accusations that she knew would eventually come her way. _What matters is saving my kingdom from Cora, _Snow decided, and was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice that David had moved to her side until he took her hand.

"Father, perhaps we should give the princess some rooms and time to rest before we start making strategic plans," he suggested quietly.

"Of course. You are welcome in our home, Princess. We will begin planning your wedding after you feel better."

"Planning my what?" Snow demanded.

"Did you think I would help you for free?" George asked bluntly. "Hardly. Political alliances are not made for reasons of mutual liking. They are made for reasons of mutual benefit. You need your kingdom back. I have an army, and I want an alliance."

"Of course you do," she replied, looking her future father-in-law in the eye. "And so do I. I will sign a betrothal contract if you like, but I will not marry until my kingdom is retaken."

That seemed to bring George up short, and he looked at her appraisingly. "Very wise of you. I begin to have hopes for intelligent grandchildren."

Snow sighed. "I bet you do."

* * *

><p>They thought they were being so subtle, and it would have been rather hilarious if it was not so sad. Just looking at the pair of them made Regina's heart ache…both for herself and for her sister. Mary Margaret Blanchard didn't know that she was in love with David Nolan, and they were both trying so hard to deny their feelings for one another. David—bless his silly little heart—thought he <em>should <em>be in love with Regina. The curse told him that he should be, and even if Regina told him he was absolutely free to pursue Mary Margaret, his sense of honor probably wouldn't let him. Not yet.

Even if he did, do-gooding, gentle Mary Margaret probably would tell him no. She had all of Snow's heart and none of Snow's courage…and Cora really had turned her into a mouse. Just watching her like this _hurt_, and Regina burned to see her stepsister grab a hold of life by the horns and _do _something. Mary Margaret tended to wait for life to kick her in the face instead of fighting back, and Regina hated seeing her like this. _If this isn't reason to break the curse, I don't know what is._

"Really?" Snow's voice carried as she laughed. "I didn't know that about you."

"Most people don't," David replied with an answering chuckle from the next table. The two idiots had been meeting 'accidentally' at 7:15 each day for at least a week, both stopping in before they headed to work. So far, there was no evidence that either realized that they were doing it on purpose, but they certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"You're trusting me with your secrets already?" her sister teased Regina so-called husband lightly, grinning. "That sounds dangerous."

Then again, maybe Snow _was _in there somewhere.

"Regina?" another voice asked, and Regina turned so fast that she almost knocked down the barstool to her right down. Eyes wide, she faced the handsome firefighter who had rescued her son, not quite knowing what to say or how to even start saying it. She was undeniably attracted to Errol Forrester, no matter how much she told herself she shouldn't be. Regina _knew _that her mother would lash out if she even suspected that Regina might actually like someone…but she couldn't help herself.

Nor could she stop the smile that warmed her expression. "Hi."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Cora still has too much power, and now she knows about Lacey. What do you think she'll do about having competition? _

_Next up is Chapter Twenty-Six: "Pieces in Play," where Emma goes to Gold for help with a restraining order, someone attacks Emma, and Cora threatens to crush someone's heart. Back in the past, Rumplestiltskin forms some opinions on Zelena, Snow and Charming discuss the future, Belle wonders why her husband insists on keeping her existence a secret, and Cora runs into Will Scarlet and Anastasia._


	26. Chapter 26: Pieces in Play

_**Chapter Twenty-Six—"Pieces in Play"**_

* * *

><p><span><em>13 Years, 8 Months Before the Curse<em>

She was crazy.

For a month or so after Zelena had arrived, Rumplestiltskin had dared to hope that his initial visions had been more correct, and that Cora's firstborn daughter—who his old lover had dropped into his lap, just like that—would cast the curse. When Zelena had first come to him, her potential had been enormous, and unlike her mother, she'd been so eager to please. Like Cora, Zelena was a quick study, too. She was actually quicker than Regina, naturally gifted in ways that Regina wasn't, particularly when it came to dark magic. Regina _could _embrace darkness and rage when she so chose, but her strong ability to love often overrode even the fury she could summon up when thinking of her mother. Zelena, however, had no such restraints—or any at all.

That didn't mean she wasn't worth teaching, however. Rumplestiltskin was hardly one to let opportunity slip by, and even if Cora _did _cast the curse—something he was depressingly certain of now that he'd had time to study Zelena's terrifyingly unstable personality—he was not adverse to having a second wildcard to fall back upon. Zelena was far easier to manipulate than Regina, too; while he had to work to build up a relationship with Regina, Zelena wanted to jump into one headfirst without so much as dipping her toe in to check the temperature. Rumplestiltskin had thought he could use that in the beginning, but her clinging started to get _really _old four months after he started teaching her. By then, she was baking him meat pies and trying to take over his castle, and Zelena quite obviously fancied herself in love with him.

Rumplestiltskin was having none of that. He'd had his fill with her mother, and this less-stable but younger version of Cora was _not _what he would have wanted, even if he had been looking for love—which he wasn't. Zelena wasn't in love with him, anyway; she was in love with his power, in love with the _idea _of being accepted for who she was. Rumplestiltskin wasn't so desperate or so lonely that he'd accept that frenzied imitation of love; he had known love, after all, _real love_, and he wasn't such a fool to think that he'd ever find it again. The one person who had ever really loved him was the son he'd abandoned, and there was no room for anyone else in his heart. He had no doubt that Zelena would find someone to cling to eventually, but it certainly wouldn't be him.

"You were teaching someone else today," she said as soon as he returned to the Dark Castle late one afternoon, and Rumplestiltskin didn't bother to hide his scowl. The foolish girl needed somewhere else to live, somewhere that wasn't _his _castle. Zelena was going to drive him mad if she stayed much longer.

"And?" he demanded, wheeling to face her. Zelena's face was screwed up in a pout and her arms were crossed; she looked barely ten, not like a talented sorceress in her twenties.

Talented indeed. Just not long on self-control, unfortunately.

"I thought you were teaching me," Zelena replied, and Rumplestiltskin gestured airily.

"There's plenty of me to go around, dearie. No need to worry."

"Who is she?"

"Who is who?"

Zelena stepped up closet to him, and his curse could smell the rage on her. The _envy_. If she wasn't careful, with all that power of hers, she was going to get herself in quite the pickle. "This other student," Zelena snapped. "Who is she?"

"My, my, we're a bit worked up, aren't we?" Rumplestiltskin giggled before he could stop himself, egged on by his curse and enjoying her discomfort more than a little. _Contain yourself, _he told his curse firmly. _She might yet be useful, and antagonizing her isn't the best idea._ Still, it was nice to see Zelena a bit out of sorts for once; heavens knew, she was driving him insane already.

"Just tell me!"

Oh, was that a small spot of green growing on her neck? It wasn't quite visible to the naked eye, but his magic could just detect it.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Your younger sister, of course."

That brought Zelena up short. "I have a sister?"

* * *

><p>The bell ringing brought Rumplestiltskin out of his reverie, and that was probably a good thing. He'd been left alone with his thoughts for too long, too lost in the previous evening with Cora. She'd kept through the night this time, laughing about how his 'little maid' would probably not miss him at all. He'd mouthed off, of course—although not about Belle, since he kept well away from that topic around Cora—and had paid the price for it. Rumplestiltskin had barely gotten a wink of sleep that night, and had contemplated closing up the shop and going home for the day to rest his aching body. But he didn't. As much as he wanted to, Rumplestiltskin refused to show that kind of weakness. Even if it was only Cora who knew that he'd given in and run away to the safety of his own home, Rumplestiltskin knew he couldn't afford to be that weak.<p>

So, he stayed in the shop and pushed through the exhaustion, glad that it at least numbed the pain a bit. Moving was sheer hell; everything between his legs was burning, and Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure how he was going to go home to Belle like this. He was fairly sure that being touched right now might make him scream, and how was he going to explain that to her?

"Gold? Hello?" Emma Swan's voice drifted in from the front of the shop, and Rumplestiltskin limped out from the back room. For once, he was glad for his infernal limp; it kept anyone from noticing how badly Cora had hurt him this time.

"Sheriff Swan. What a pleasant surprise," he said with a smile, shoving his discomfort aside. Emma's arrival was a surprise, and a good one. Regina _still _hadn't come by, so he didn't know how her task of making the Savior believe was progressing. Perhaps he could evaluate that for himself.

"Look, I'm, uh, here for your help," Snow White's brash daughter told him, and Rumplestiltskin managed not to smile.

"Is that so?" Rumplestiltskin asked lightly, and then gave a small shrug as he shifted a set of knives around on the counter. "I'm always glad to do my civic duty, of course."

That made her roll her eyes; perhaps he'd laid it on a bit too thick. "Sure you are."

Rumplestiltskin folded his hands on the countertop and resisted the imp's desire to wiggle in glee. "What can I do for you?"

"Regina Nolan says that you're a lawyer," Emma said bluntly. "And a good one."

"I have my moments."

"You'd better. You're the only one in this screwy little town that doesn't seem to be afraid of the mayor, and I need that," she replied, and Rumplestiltskin upped his assessment of her intelligence by a notch or two. "You afraid to go up against her?"

"I can't say that I am." And _this_, at least, was interesting. Even his curse liked the idea of tweaking Cora's tail, and the Dark One could feel it quivering in his mind, excited and ready to strike back in vengeance for everything she had done to him.

"I need a restraining order lifted."

_Boring. _Rumplestiltskin managed—barely—not to sneer. "Whatever do you need that for?"

"Cora filed one against me as Graham's medical proxy. She claims I was responsible for his accident, and for some reason, he won't say anything against that," Emma replied, and Rumplestiltskin perked up a bit. "I want that restraining order lifted."

It was still a little boring, but Cora would kick and scream and be furious at being thwarted, which would at least keep his attention. He couldn't do anything for the unfortunate Huntsman, whose queen had taken away both his heart and now his ability to walk, but perhaps he could help the young Sheriff that seemed fond of the man she'd replaced. _Helping _wasn't always his style—his curse hated it—but Rumplestiltskin could at least amuse himself.

"I could do that," he mused. "For a price."

"What, another favor?" the Savior countered immediately. "That isn't very original."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Actually, I had something more specific in mind," he replied with a smile. "Belief."

"Belief in what?"

"We'll save that for another day. All I ask is that when the time comes, you grant me a little faith." He met her eyes easily, and watched the Savior contemplate for a moment—but not for long enough. She wasn't ready, not yet, and that realization irked Rumplestiltskin far more than he let on. _Hurry up, Miss Swan. We're all waiting on _you.

"Sure. Why not?" she shrugged too easily.

Rumplestiltskin bit back the need to shake her. "Then let's go pay Judge Herman a visit, shall we?"

* * *

><p><span><em>4 ½ Years Before the Curse<em>

"He won't do it, you know," Charming said quietly. The two of them were sharing a quiet dinner in the chambers Snow had been given the day after their arrival in George's kingdom, and Snow had to admit that she was glad to finally be with her charming prince. She'd barely seen him that day, and there was a suspicious emptiness in her heart. He had been deep in George's planning sessions with their military leaders, discussing how to win her kingdom back, while Snow was stuck being fitted for dresses.

_I should have been there, _she thought, annoyed. The dresses could wait; she was grateful for George's generosity in providing her with a wardrobe fitted to her station, but she would have preferred to be involved in the war councils. _Not ignored because I am a princess. My father raised me to be stronger than George thinks._

Thinking of Leopold made Snow swallow hard, the familiar pain of her beloved father's death welling up and making her throat tight. Leopold had killed himself to spare her from doing so, but that did not lessen how horrible she felt. Cora had tried to make her kill her own _father. _ She had forced Snow to fetch the poison for her, had used her heart to turn her against those she loved. Had Regina not acted to free her—and had Charming not helped—Snow would have been executed months earlier. The terrible ache had faded some in that time, but not enough, and the only thing that kept Snow going was the desire to avenge her father and win his kingdom back.

_And Charming. Charming gives me strength._

"Won't do what?" she asked now, looking at the man that she was slowly coming to accept was the only man she would ever love in her life.

"Allow us to wait to marry until after we have your kingdom back. His army won't budge unless we're married," Charming told her.

Snow sighed. She'd expected this, particularly after George's dismissal of her on grounds that Snow needed to 'rest', but she had hoped that the king would agree to her demands. "Don't you mean _your _armies? You're the heir to this kingdom."

"Sometimes I don't feel like it."

"Don't say that," she replied, reaching out for his hand.

"Well, I'm just kind of new at this," Charming said frankly, and Snow felt herself smiling at him. "I wasn't raised in a palace, or with any of this. I just kind of… I'm doing this badly, aren't I?"

"Not too badly," she assured him.

"I love you," he answered seriously, kissing her hand.

_Father would like him, _Snow decided. "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Emma watched the pair talk over breakfast—they'd given up sitting at other tables and had started sitting with one another that morning, and Emma wasn't sure how she felt about that. On one hand, she had never seen Mary Margaret so happy. Even at home, Mary Margaret was always singing or humming, dancing around the loft and buying flowers with any spare money she managed to scrape together. Mary Margaret was doing better financially these days; Emma knew that the way she paid half the rent helped with that, but her roommate was still frugal. Splurging on flowers was a sign that Mary Margaret was finally <em>enjoying <em>life, and Emma was so glad to see that.

But on the other hand, her roommate was now more-or-less seeing the husband of someone who Emma had started thinking of as a friend. Even if her relationship with Regina was odd—Henry's adopted mother claimed to be Emma's step-aunt, after all—Emma didn't want to see her marriage ruined. Regina didn't deserve that, and _Henry_ didn't deserve to have his adopted parents split up, either. So, it was with mixed feelings that she watched the two of them fall in love, complete with doe eyed looks and insipid giggles from both of them. Or, in this case, she _didn't _watch them, because Emma headed out of Granny's without so much as a glance back at the pair. _I'm not involved in this, _she told herself for the hundredth time. _I'm not._

Of course, she ran into Regina while she walked back to the Sheriff's Station, just steps away from the diner's front door.

"Hey," Emma said uneasily, hoping the older woman wouldn't look through the window and see her husband laughing oh-so-naturally with another woman. Unfortunately, Regina did just that.

"Well, don't they look happy," Regina drawled dryly, but there was something odd in the expression on her face.

"Yeah…" Emma replied awkwardly. "I think they're just having breakfast, you know, as friends and—"

"Oh, don't bother," the mayor's daughter shrugged. "I hope they're happy. It's about damn time."

Emma stared. "You can't possibly believe in what Henry's book says about the two of them."

"Can't believe what I lived, you mean?" Regina countered, rolling her eyes. "And try not to mention the book here. My mother is not fond of it."

"Why not? It's just a book."

"One of these days, you're going to believe that it's anything but that, but today obviously isn't that day. In the meantime, give this to your mo—roommate." Regina held out a paper-wrapped bundle that was about the size of Emma's two hands combined. It was tied together with old-fashioned string and heavier than it looked, which made Emma look at the dark-haired woman questioningly.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"A necklace. She may not recognize it yet, but I believe it belonged to her mother."

* * *

><p>The necklace had, of course, mysteriously appeared on Regina's doorstep that morning with a note that Regina had <em>not <em>included. Regina might have been steering clear of Gold's shop, but that didn't mean that he couldn't put a few more pieces into play, and every little thing that could weaken the curse was a path worth pursuing. So, he had dug the necklace out of the display case where it lived, polished it carefully, and had Dove drop it off at the Nolans'. After all, anything that could job Mary Margaret into being a little less of a doormat and a little more Snow White was a good thing.

Besides which, Rumplestiltskin really did prefer to have Cora direct some of her attention elsewhere.

* * *

><p><span><em>3 Years, 9 Months Before the Curse<em>

"Why are you so afraid to let people know we are married?" Belle asked him one evening as they lay in bed together. She had been reading a book and his fingers had been playing idly with her hair as he worked _some _sort of magic or another. So near as she could tell, it was a puzzle of sorts, a plethora of glowing threads dancing across the ornate ceiling of their bedroom, but that was hardly important at the moment. Belle had lost her focus on the book some time ago, contemplating—again—her husband's near paranoia over allowing anyone to know that he had a wife.

First it had been the Huntsman, but it hadn't only been him. Next had been the Hatter, whom Belle had met while Rumplestiltskin's maid, but now whom Rumple insisted _must not _know of their relationship. Then there had been the group of townspeople who had come to the Dark Castle for Rumplestiltskin to rule upon a conflict between two shopkeepers in the town at the bottom of the mountain. Somehow, Belle had never quite understood that as the lord of the Dark Castle, Rumplestiltskin was _also_ the lord of the town that owed his castle allegiance, and she'd been rather shocked to discover him mediating said dispute. But he'd still refused to tell _his _people that she was his wife, and Belle found that more than a little irksome. The last straw, however, had come when one of his former students came by that morning and he'd snapped at her to hide herself in the library.

She'd spent the day stewing over the issue and had tried to ignore it. But the question had been eating at her for too long, and Belle had to know.

"What's that?" Rumplestiltskin asked idly, still twisting a lock of hair through his fingers.

"Why did you make me hide?" Belle turned onto her side to look at him. "You had me hide from your old student, and you don't want anyone to know we are married. Are you ashamed of me?"

"No!" Rumplestiltskin looked shocked, his reptilian eyes wide. "How could I ever be ashamed of you, sweetheart?"

"You won't let anyone know about me."

Belle felt terribly childish and rather insecure when she said that; her voice was tiny and uncertain, and she knew that she was looking at her husband with wide and hurt eyes. But her expression definitely got the point across even if her words didn't. Belle saw guilt flash over Rumplestiltskin's features and his shocked frown turned into a somewhat broken and frightened look that she knew all too well. Her husband _always _seemed to think that she'd leave him if anything even went a little bit wrong in their lives, and even though they had been married for almost a year, Belle still hadn't broken him of that habit. It wasn't as if she was unhappy—far from it!—but having Rumplestiltskin hide her was still far from what she'd envisioned when they'd wed.

"It's not that I'm ashamed of you—I couldn't be—it's just that I have so many enemies," her husband replied, reaching out to touch her face gently. "If they knew what you meant to me, they would want to hurt you."

"Hurt me? Why would anyone want to do that?"

"Because I love you," Rumplestiltskin answered seriously, his voice soft. He was so earnest that it made Belle hesitate; she knew he lived in a vastly different world from the one she had been born in, but surely even the Dark One's enemies would not lash out at his wife?

"But that's…" she trailed off.

"Villains don't have know many limits, my love," he said quietly. "I should know."

"There are lines you won't cross. _You _wouldn't hurt someone's wife," Belle retorted.

"Wouldn't I?"

She shot him a look. "Rumple, that's not funny."

"It's not meant to be. I have done some truly terrible things in my life. You know the man I want to be…not the man I always am. I have done things that would make you run away from me screaming."

"There's nothing that could make me run away from you, Rumplestiltskin," Belle reassured him, placing her hand over the one on her cheek. "Your past is your past. All I ask is that you try to be better."

Swallowing, her husband nodded, but then shook his head minutely. "You don't understand. What I am… I am the _Dark One_, Belle. They cannot stop me without leverage, and you would be that leverage. They would hurt you for that if nothing else."

"You truly believe that," Belle replied slowly, watching his expression carefully. She didn't like hiding, but what if Rumple was right? Could his enemies use her to hurt _him_? Belle would never allow that to happen, for she knew the fragile man beneath the prickly and armored exterior of the monster, knew his fears, his hopes, and his dreams. She knew that he used magic to hide behind, to show strength he didn't always feel he had, and Belle felt it was _her _job to keep that fragile heart of his safe.

"I know it's true," he said firmly.

"Then I'll trust you. I just…" _I'm just lonely. I love you, Rumple, but being here with only you can be so _empty_, _Belle didn't add.

"Feel like you're still a prisoner?"

She blushed. "Is it that obvious? I mean…I don't think I'm your prisoner, Rumple. I just…I just miss people. Doing things. Not hiding."

Belle often saw those who came to make deals with Rumplestiltskin, of course, but it wasn't the same. They either assumed she was his servant or his concubine, and although she didn't care what they thought of her, it did deprive her of friendships she would have liked to have made. She hated the isolation of hiding her relationship with him away…and yet Belle was also more happy than she ever had been in her life. Over the last year, they hadn't just traveled to Amorveria, though they had visited there a second time, just a few months earlier. But they'd also gone to Agrabah, the Southern Isles, Fiore, Brabant, and even Firefly Hill. Rumplestiltskin tended to wear glamours there, and they always used names other than their own, but it _was _the excitement and adventure she had always craved.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin replied immediately. "I just…I just need you to be safe. If I lose you…I don't know what I'd do."

"You won't lose me," Belle promised, turning her head to kiss his hand. "I will _always _love you, and no one can change that." She kissed his hand again, and then let her free hand slide down her husband's stomach, towards the waist of the silk pants he was wearing. "If this is what we have to do to keep _both _of us safe, it's what we'll do. So long as you make a deal with me."

"And what's that?" Rumplestiltskin asked breathlessly, and Belle smiled as she saw a little color entering his cheeks. She let her fingers tease the scales on his stomach, not quite tickling her very ticklish husband, and giggled a little.

"Distract me, and I'll stop asking about it."

Rumplestiltskin grinned. "That I can do."

* * *

><p>The attack came just outside the Sheriff's Station. One minute, Emma was walking out, her head full of what she was going to order at Granny's for lunch, and the next she heard Ruby yelling:<p>

"_Look out!"_

Emma threw herself right, but she wasn't quite fast enough; a body slammed into her own and knocked her right off her feet. Crying out, Emma crashed right into the doorframe she'd just walked through, bouncing off it hard. She caught her balance and pushed her assailant back, but the blonde haired woman came at her again, shrieking furiously and clawing at Emma's face. Jerking her head out of the way, Emma cracked her head on the doorframe and saw stars. Before her vision could clear, nails flashed in and pain exploded in her left cheek. Emma snarled and got her hands up in the way as she ducked down, but her attacker kept frantically clawing at her.

"Vicky!" Ruby shouted again, and suddenly the waitress was there, bodily hauling the screeching blonde away.

"That's not my name!" Victoria Scadlock howled, and Emma distantly remembered that she claimed her name was Anastasia. The skinny blonde kept fighting, but Ruby had a good grip on her, and Emma finally managed to straighten and shove away from the doorframe, her face aching and head still trying to spin.

"Anastasia, then, fine. Whatever your name is, calm down!" Ruby replied, shaking the other woman. "You just attacked the sheriff. What is _wrong _with you?"

"I had to! I—" Victoria (or Anastasia) cut herself off, going red and clamping her mouth shut.

"You had to?" Emma echoed, bringing herself back on balance.

But the other woman wouldn't say a thing after that, even when Emma threatened to arrest her. In the end, Emma had no choice but to do just that, so she hauled Victoria Scadlock into the sheriff's station and locked her up. When she called Editor Francis Scadlock to notify him that his estranged wife had been arrested, his reaction had been typically arrogant. He didn't care, and he didn't care if she _was _crazy after all. He just wanted her out of his hair, and he wouldn't pay for a lawyer, either.

Thanking Ruby for the help—who would have thought that the slender waitress was that strong?—Emma stalked out of the sheriff's station after another round of unanswered questions with Victoria Scadlock. She remained stubbornly silent on why she'd attacked Emma, staring at the wall and refusing to say another word.

* * *

><p><span><em>6 Months Before the Curse<em>

She was supposed to be getting married tomorrow, but instead, Anastasia was sneaking out of the palace of a man who had promised to make her his queen. It was supposed to be what every girl wanted: wealth, power, and prestige. It was certainly what her mother had always wanted for her, and Ana had tried to tell herself over and over again that she _should _do this. She could marry the king, become the Red Queen, and make her mother proud. She could outshine Ella, even; Ella, after all, had only married a prince. And her real sister, Drizella, hadn't yet managed to snag _anyone _when Ana and Will ran away. She could top them all, finally prove her mother wrong and not be the worthless waste of money that her mother always said she was.

Except she hadn't, and Will Scarlet was waiting for her.

"Ana! I thought you weren't coming," her love said, jumping out of the wagon with a grin on his face.

"I'm sorry. Oh, Will, I'm so sorry," she babbled, jumping into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time. He held her tight, and Ana clung to him. "I should never have gone with the king. I should have come back to you right away. I love you."

"An' I love you," Will replied. "I talked to the Rabbit. We can go back home, if you want. I mean, if you want t'go with me."

"Of course I do! I should never have left," Ana replied hurriedly, leaning back to kiss him. She couldn't understand how Will could still want her, how he could even begin to forgive her for the heartbreak she'd put him through, but somehow he could.

"Well, then. So long as you promise never to do it again, I _suppose _you can come back with me," he replied, and Ana kissed him again.

"I promise."

Two days later, the White Rabbit dug a hole into the Enchanted Forest for them, and Will Scarlet and Anastasia Tremaine returned to the Enchanted Forest. They very consciously chose not to return to the kingdom that had once been Ana's home—she had no desire to see her mother and listen to Lady Tremaine say 'I told you so'—and headed north instead. Once they were over the border, they started taking on odd jobs here and there, working to support themselves and hoping to find themselves a place to settle down. Eventually they wound up on the far end of the northern kingdom, having heard of a town where there were jobs for those who were willing to work.

Unfortunately, Argon turned out to be less cheerful than they had hoped; the town was half-deserted and the residents were terrified. Oh, there were plenty of jobs to be had, but then again, that was a fact that was always true when a town was half-emptied out because people were too terrified to stay. Will managed to sign on as a bartender at the local tavern, and Ana started waiting tables there, too. It was far from the glorious life that her mother had always wanted for her, but it made ends meet and gave them a pretty good life. They even managed to rent a little house down the road from the tavern for a decent price, and they'd even scraped up the money to get married for real. Life was finally starting to look up, until Ana came home one night to find a woman outside their home.

She stopped cold. "Who are you?"

"Anastasia, isn't it?" The woman turned to look at her with a friendly smile, but looking at her ornate dress—which had not been so obviously expensive from behind, when hidden by a dark cloak—made Ana draw up short. "I knew your mother some years ago."

Ana swallowed. "Who are you?"

"Queen Cora, of course. And I do believe that royalty is bowed to where you come from."

"I… Of course, Your Majesty." Ana quickly dropped into a deep curtsey, but doing so did nothing to lessen her confusion. "May I ask why you are here?"

"Don't be so polite, Ana. She's the bloody Queen of Hearts, the Evil Queen," Will put in, suddenly standing in the doorway to their little home. "What d'you think she's here for?"

Rising from her curtsey, Ana only then noticed the glowing object in Cora's right hand. The queen, however, was laughing softly.

"Always defiant, aren't you, Scarlet? You should be glad I have a use for you."

"A _use_ for him?" Ana demanded before Will could get a word in.

"Of course," Cora purred, her smile small and secretive. "Why else would I have his heart in my hand?"

"His _what?_" Telling the queen she was crazy was on the tip of Ana's tongue, but the tormented expression on Will's face told her that this wasn't a lie. So, instead of saying more, she rushed over to her husband's side, taking his hand in his own as Will glared impotently at Queen Cora.

"His heart, of course. I have need of a thief, and will in the future. Your husband now serves me," Cora replied easily.

"You can't!"

"Ana." The defeat in Will's voice made her turn to stare helplessly at him, and he smiled crookedly. "It's true. She's got me heart. I have to do what she says."

"Then we'll get it back!" Ana cried furiously, starting towards Cora, only to have the Evil Queen disappear in a cloud of purple smoke.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Emma said quietly, ducking into Graham's hospital room. Her former boss was awake, propped up in the bed and reading the <em>Daily Mirror. <em> But he looked up when she came in, putting down the paper to smile at her. In a flash, Graham went from wan and bored looking to brilliantly alive, and Emma felt her heart skip a beat.

"Hi, Emma." Graham was obviously trying to sound casual, but Emma could hear the excitement in his voice. And the uncertainty. "I thought…I thought you weren't coming back."

"No, that was Cora," she replied with a shrug, sitting down in the chair at his bedside. "She filed a restraining order against me. I just got it lifted this morning."

"How'd you pull that off?" the paralyzed ex-sheriff asked curiously.

"Gold. He's amazingly efficient for such a bastard." Emma bit her lip, wondering how a conversation with a friend could become so awkward. Or was he more than a friend? Emma didn't know. They'd kissed, she was definitely attracted to him…and then he'd gotten in an accident, gone into a coma, and was now paralyzed. Emma had no idea where this was going, or even where she _wanted _it to, but she had to come see him now that she could.

"I could have told you that," he replied, smiling easily.

"Any news on your legs?" Emma asked.

He shrugged. "Still not working, but Whale says I can go home in a week or so. At least they've decided I'm not crazy, and my insurance is going to pay for the damage to Dave's Fish and Chips."

"Did you ever remember what caused the accident?" On impulse, Emma reached out for his hand, squeezing it gently. Graham gave her a lopsided smile.

"No, not at all. And thinking about it just makes my head hurt horribly."

Emma squeezed his hand again. "Well, then don't. I'm sure that it will come to you eventually."

"I doubt it," Graham said slowly. "I mean, it never has before. My blackouts…well, they always stay blackouts."

"You mean this has happened before?"

"A couple of times over the years. I can never remember what happens," he admitted.

"Graham, that's serious! Have you talked to Whale about it?" Emma demanded.

"No, and I'm not going to. He can't help. It's always been this way, so long as I can remember. I have some meds for it. I'll be fine."

"Of course you will, dear, particularly once Miss Swan leaves you alone," a new voice said, and Emma twisted to look at Cora, her heart plummeting.

"Madam Mayor. What are _you _doing here?" she snarled before she could stop herself.

"Visiting an old friend, of course." Cora's smile could have slain a poisonous snake with its toxicity. "And I thought _you _were not permitted to be here. You make a very poor sheriff if you begin ignoring the laws that you don't agree with."

"You should check on the town records more often," Emma retorted. "That restraining order was lifted this morning."

Oh, watching fury flick across Cora's face, feeling the slight taste of victory, was absolutely sweet. Emma knew she shouldn't revel in it, but the mayor was _such _a bitch. She was probably the nastiest piece of work that Emma had ever met, and that was saying a lot. Even Graham looked downright annoyed to see her, and so far as Emma knew, Graham was friendly towards everyone.

"I'm glad she's here," Graham piped up, and Emma felt his fingers squeeze hers. "_And _glad she's Sheriff."

Cora scowled. "Don't be too happy about it. _She's _the one who let loose a half dozen psychopaths so that they could terrorize the town."

"You what?" Graham asked, and Emma saw Cora's eyes gleaming triumphantly.

"_I_ uncovered a hidden prison underneath the hospital," Emma told Graham, but not before she paused to glare at Cora. "And everyone who had been locked away in there—without so much as a trial—was certified as just fine by doctors."

"Which is, of course, why one of them attacked you today."

Emma snorted. "Don't you just have an answer for everything? But until you can pin that on me, _Madam Mayor_, why don't you get the hell out?"

* * *

><p>The evening before she attacked the sheriff, Anastasia—or Victoria Scadlock, as the fools here seemed to think she was named—found herself escorted into the mayor's office by her husband. <em>It's not Will's fault, <em>Ana told herself for the hundredth time. _He doesn't know who he is. It's this damn curse, the one everyone said was coming back in the Enchanted Forest. _Ana didn't know why the curse hadn't affected her, or why she'd woken up in that horrible asylum with her own memories intact. The two weeks since her release had taught Ana a few important things, first of which was that _no one _remembered who they were. Her mother was here, but Lady Tremaine thought her name was Victoria and that Will's name was Francis. Ella was here, and although she hadn't seen Druzilla yet, Ana was willing to bet that her sister was around somewhere. Everyone else she knew was.

But none of them remembered, so they didn't matter. Except Queen Cora. _She _remembered, quite obviously, because the Evil Queen who had cast the curse. _After she ripped Will's heart out, and he's _still _doing her bidding, _Ana thought angrily.

"What do you want?" she asked the queen who called herself a mayor, scowling.

"I want you to sit down, dear," Cora replied, gesturing at Will.

Hands landed on Ana's shoulders before she could move, shoving her down into the chair facing Cora. Ana grunted as she hit, knowing that she'd hit hard enough to cause bruises, but complaining wouldn't get her anywhere, so she bit her tongue. Will didn't say another word after that; he just backed off and scowled. Ana watched him for a moment, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. _Oh, Will. _The scowl was so like the man she loved, but the silence wasn't. The silence was all this _Francis Scadlock_ that Queen Cora had created. Will would have been snapping out something sarcastic by now.

"Now what?" she demanded.

Cora sat back, crossing her legs and smiling. "I want you to attack our good sheriff."

"Why would I do that? She's the only decent person in this town." Ana hadn't figured out who Emma Swan actually was, but she knew that the sheriff was actually honest. She'd freed them all from the asylum, after all, and Ana thought that was worth something. _And the Evil Queen doesn't seem able to control her the way she can my poor Will._

"Because if you don't, I'm going to crush your husband's heart."

"You'll _what?_" That made Ana twist to look at Will again, but he was all Francis right now and didn't even look like he was listening.

"You heard me, Anastasia. You will do what I say, or your beloved husband will die. Understood?" Cora's tone would probably have been the same if she was ordering an insignificant servant about; she sounded completely blasé and uncaring.

Ana wanted to argue, but she wasn't a fool. "I understand," she grated out.

"You will tell no one about this. No matter what happens after you attack the sheriff, you will certainly not tell anyone you have done so at my…request," Cora continued, smiling slightly.

"And then what?"

"Then I will take care of things. You have my word that—so long as both of you behave yourselves and remain loyal to me—I will ensure neither of you are harmed in any permanent way. If you obey me, however, I will make it worth your while. I might even give your _beloved _husband his memories back."

Ana swallowed hard. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but what did this sheriff mean to her? Emma Swan was no one important, and Will was everything to Anastasia. She only had a split second to decide, but it really was no decision at all. Will was the center of her life, and Anastasia would do whatever it took to save him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__A few people have asked if Daniel Hari is Regina's Daniel, and the answer is yes, that is the same person. According to Storybrooke's public records, he is deceased. And for everyone who is curious about Daniel's fate in the Enchanted Forest, I promise that it will be revealed! _

_Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Seven: "A Perfect Fit," in which David helps Mary Margaret out of a sticky situation, Henry asks questions about True Love, and Moe French goes to Emma because he's worried about his daughter. Back in the past, disaster comes at Snow and Charming's engagement announcement and Rumplestiltskin gets a few hairs for a certain potion._


	27. Chapter 27: A Perfect Fit

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven—"A Perfect Fit"**_

* * *

><p>"We shouldn't do this," Mary Margaret said quietly, but she put her bag into David's truck anyway when he opened the door for her.<p>

They were planning on going for a picnic by the toll bridge, and her old car had broken down again. Under other circumstances, Mary Margaret would have driven herself, but it was a very long walk and David had offered to take her. She knew that she should have said no—driving out there together was hardly subtle—but who could complain if two friends wanted to go bird watch together? That was _all _they were doing. There was nothing romantic between them. They were just friends.

"I told Regina," David said abruptly, and her head snapped around so fast that Mary Margaret thought that her neck might break.

"You _what_?" she gasped. They hadn't even talked to each_ other_ about what they were doing; they weren't technically in a relationship because neither of them would let themselves be in one. Mary Margaret was just _drawn _to David, as he was to her, and they'd started meeting—innocently!—for breakfast at Granny's. She couldn't believe that she'd never really sat down with him before. Being around David was like coming home, like finding the perfect puzzle piece that fit in just right. Mary Margaret knew that she was in love with him like she knew her own name, but David had told his _wife_ about this?

"She asked," he replied honestly. "Actually, she guessed."

"How?"

David shrugged. "She said she's seen us together at Granny's. And that…and that she just wants me to be happy…even if it's not with her."

"I…I'm not sure what to say to that," Mary Margaret stuttered, blinking hard. She had to lean on David's truck for balance; her head was spinning wildly. Regina Nolan had really said _that_? Mary Margaret didn't know the mayor's daughter well, but Regina seemed to be the take-no-prisoners type, not the forgiving of a cheating husband type.

"Look, our marriage has been on the rocks for a while now. We tried to patch things up for Henry's sake, and I _care _about Regina a lot. But I'm not in love with her," he said, and Mary Margaret hated herself for the way her heart leapt.

"David…" she started to whisper, only to have whatever she was going to say interrupted by a very unwelcome visitor.

"Mary Margaret!" a jovial voice shouted, and a cold chill swept over her. Her voice went tiny as she answered:

"Jefferson."

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I haven't seen you in weeks," her ex-boyfriend said with a dazzling smile, but seeing him grin like that only brought back bad memories. She'd thought she was in love with him once, but it hadn't lasted long at all, and these days, Mary Margaret knew better. Jefferson might have had money and might have treated her like a princess when everything was going right, but what he wanted from her had been complete and absolute submission, and no matter how afraid of him she'd been, Mary Margaret wasn't ready to give that.

_You can stand up to the bastard, _a voice inside her head said, one that sounded suspiciously like Emma. It made her square her shoulders and take a deep breath, drawing on strength she didn't know she had.

"That's because I told you not to come back, and you were smart enough not to do it," she retorted.

"Now, don't be like that," Jefferson replied, stepping close to her. Instinct took over; Mary Margaret flinched. "You know I don't like it."

"I don't care," she said as boldly as she could, but she felt so trapped, with the open truck door behind her and Jefferson in front of her—

"Look, why don't you come with me, and we'll go _talk _someplace private."

"She said no, Jefferson," a strong voice suddenly said from her left, and then David was in the picture, staring the other man down.

Jefferson scoffed at him. "Do you want something, Nolan?"

"Yeah, for you to leave her alone," David replied without backing down an inch. "Get lost. If she wants to see you, she'll let you know."

"And I don't. In case you didn't get the message last time," Mary Margaret said, her voice stronger. Just knowing David was next to her gave her strength, and Jefferson seemed to notice that. So, she pulled her chin up and looked her former boyfriend in the eye, all the while wondering what she'd ever seen in him.

"We'll see each other again," Jefferson promised, but it rang emptily, and he turned and walked away when Mary Margaret crossed her arms. She and David watched him go in silence, and Mary Margaret swore that she could feel some sort of _spark _in the air, something between them that hadn't been there before.

She didn't know what it was, but it felt so right that even her nagging conscience went quiet.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years, 3 Months Before the Curse<em>

Apparently, announcing a royal engagement took a lot of work. Regina arrived late for the gala, but it was still in full swing several hours after starting. She hadn't intended to come at all, but in the end, the thought of _not _congratulating Snow on a day like this was more than she could stand. Regina hadn't seen her sister in half a year, not since her mother had forced her to abandon Snow and David while they fled, and she desperately needed to tell Snow that she still cared. Cora might have wanted her stepdaughter dead—and was busy announcing to the world that Snow was a murderer while she shoved Regina into Snow's place—but Regina still loved her stepsister, no matter what face Cora forced her to show the world.

And force her Cora did. Her mother had grown increasingly threatening towards Daniel, going so far as to order him tortured twice when Regina would not immediately knuckle under. She tried to remain strong, but it was so very hard, and seeing Daniel in pain always broke her. So, she had been the perfectly behaved princess for the last six months, right up until she'd snuck out to see her sister one last time.

"Snow!" Regina whispered, slipping out from behind the tapestry that had hidden her when she teleported in. She had no idea what kind of reception she would receive here in King George's palace; after all, George was readying for war against her mother, and for all Regina knew, George would want to hold her as a hostage. Not that it would work for long if he tried.

"Regina?" Whirling around, Snow didn't even pause before she threw herself into her sister's arms. "Oh, Regina, it's so _wonderful _to see you! I had hoped you could come, but I wasn't sure you could get away."

Regina hugged her tightly. "Mother doesn't know I'm here, and I can't stay long, but I had to see you."

"However long you can be here is wonderful," Snow replied. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too," Regina admitted, smiling at her sister's enthusiasm. And she _had _missed Snow more than she could express. "Everything is so quiet without you."

"And lonely. I can see it on your face," was the perceptive answer, and Regina shrugged.

"We all do what we have to." _And I have to save Daniel._

But her magic still wasn't up to the task. Regina had tried to take her mother on, just once—and that had brought about the second time Daniel was tortured, which had taught Regina a lesson she would never forget. Her mother was a cruel and hateful woman, and Regina wanted nothing more than to be free of her…but not at the cost of Daniel's life. _Magic isn't the only thing that comes at a price, _she thought unhappily. _So does freedom._

Snow just squeezed her arm compassionately, waving her prince over as she did. "Charming! Regina is here."

"We're so glad to see you." Prince James approached quickly, and Regina couldn't detect any reservations within his smile. Then again, he _had _worked rather well with Regina to rescue Snow, and Regina rather liked him, particularly now that he was going to become her brother in law instead of a potential husband. _Serves you right, Mother, _she thought vindictively. _They're going to be happy despite your best efforts._

"I'm glad to be here," Regina replied, smiling widely. "I can't stay long—Mother will notice—but I wanted to congratulate you both. You deserve every bit of happiness you can get."

Snow hugged her one armed, and her smile was absolutely radiant. "Thank you. Are you sure you can't stay?"

"I can't." But she _wanted _to, so badly, and the mere thought made her feel guilty. Regina would have given everything to leave her mother's toxic kingdom and stay here with Snow. Snow was the only family she really had, and she missed her so much. But she couldn't leave Daniel. Even though Regina had barely seen him over the last decade, he was still her True Love. She had still married him, even if her mother had destroyed that marriage. The next word was a whisper, barely audible. "Daniel…"

"Who?" James asked, but Snow squeezed her gently.

"I'm sorry. I know—" she started to say, only to be cut off by a _twang_.

Regina knew that noise, knew what it had to be, but her mind wrapped itself around the truth just a little too slowly. But the prince twisted impossibly fast, and even as Regina started to react, he jumped in between Snow and the incoming crossbow bolt. It hit him high in the right side of the chest and he fell with a cry, but Regina's eyes did not follow him as Snow dove to her love's side. Her gaze didn't track King George as he rushed towards his heir, either; no, she was watching the crossbowman as he tried to disappear into the now-screaming crowd. He was dressed fancily enough to be taken for a nobleman, but he obviously wasn't—or if he was, he wasn't one acting of his own volition.

Her hands came up, purple light flashing between them, and the innocuous crossbowman was picked up off his feet and slammed into the far wall. Her magic played over him quickly as guards rushed to take the crossbow the man had dropped, and Regina received her answer before anyone else really realized what had happened.

"This is your doing!" a furious voice said from her left, and Regina wheeled to face King George, her hands coming down and her concentration breaking. The crossbowman dropped like a rock, bouncing off the floor and yelping in pain. Royal guards leapt on him immediately, but Regina only watched that out of the corner of her eye. Her attention was consumed by the angry king striding up to her, his lined face pinched with fury.

"My doing?" Regina demanded, scowling at him. "How is this _my _doing? He just tried to kill my sister!"

"We all know what your mother is, 'Princess' Regina," George retorted. "And you appear to be nothing if not her _worthy _successor. Arrest her!"

"No!" Snow shouted even as guards rushed towards Regina and she started wondering how many of them she'd have to hurt before she could escape. She _could _just teleport away, but that would be an admission of guilt, and Regina wasn't about to let them pin this on her.

"This isn't your concern, Princess," George snapped, and Snow looked up to glare at him from where she cradled her prince's head in her lap. His dark blue doublet was stained darker blue with blood already, and Regina could see the color leeching out of his face. Threads of magic surrounded him, and she cocked her head to look at the prince, dropping her senses down beyond the visual level and letting the truth swirl around her. _Poison, _she realized. _Thorough, and not too fast-acting. Mother._

"She can heal him!" Snow snapped, glaring at her prospective father in law. "Now, do you want that or not?"

The prince was already groaning; Regina couldn't tell what kind of poison had been used, but even as she ignored George's fury and knelt by her sister's side, she knew it was bad.

"Fine," George snapped, and then turned back to his guards. "The party is over. Get everyone out of here."

Regina didn't pay attention as the guards cleared the ballroom. Instead, she placed her hands a few inches above the wound—narrowly avoiding the still-protruding crossbow bolt—and sucked in a deep breath. Casting a quick spell to help make sense of the tangled threads of magic (poison layered with more poisons, a subtle-but-curable-curse, and yet another poison), Regina bit her lip briefly. This was bad. This was so bad. _Mother, what have you done?_ There was no question that the poison was meant for Snow, but knowing Cora, she would be just as happy to harm the prince who had chosen Snow over Regina.

"Regina?" Snow asked quietly, breaking her out of her reverie. Regina blinked.

"I can't fix this," she whispered.

"_What?"_ Her sister looked horrified, eyes wide and broken and suddenly terrified. "No, you have to. Regina, I can't lose him. I _love _him. Please, I'll do anything—"

"Don't say that. Don't _ever _say that." Regina cut her off quickly. "I can't fix this, but I know someone who can."

* * *

><p>"Mom, can I ask you something?"<p>

Regina turned to look at him, and Henry tried to return his adopted mother's smile. They were alone at home since David was off with Mary Margaret—a choice that Henry wholly approved of, even if it meant that his adopted father was sneaking around behind Regina's back. It was _True Love, _though, and that was more important than stupid things like marriages that the curse had come up with. His grandparents belonged together, and Henry was so glad to know that his _real _grandparents were so much better than Cora. Regina wasn't like her mother—she must have taken after her father, who he was named after—but he was really happy to have grandparents who weren't evil.

"Of course you can, honey," she replied easily, and Henry screwed his courage up.

"What happened to the stableboy?" he asked curiously. "The one you were in love with. Is he here in Storybrooke somewhere?"

Immediately, his mother's face closed over, much worse than Emma's did when he'd asked Emma about his birth father. But Henry remembered the story in his book, and Regina had actually _married _the stableboy before Cora forced them apart. Didn't that make the stableboy his adopted father? Regina, however, just looked sad.

"Why are you asking that?" she said softly.

"Wouldn't he be family, too? I know that the Evil Queen took him away, but if he's here somewhere, even if he doesn't remember you, True Love should overcome that. Look at Dad and Miss Blanchard. They don't remember each other, but they're still in love."

"I'm afraid that it's not that simple, Henry."

"Why not? It should be. If he's here—wait a minute. Does Grandma have him prisoner? _Still_?" Henry asked all three questions before he could stop himself, and then went on: "That's horrible!"

"My mother always treated Daniel horribly," Regina replied, her voice low and broken. "She never thought he was good enough for me, no matter how much we loved one another."

"But it's True Love. The Book says so. How can she think that's not enough?"

Regina snorted. "You've met your grandmother, Henry. Do you really think she believes anything is more important than power?"

"No," he replied glumly, wishing he could say otherwise. But Cora _was _the Evil Queen, and her motto pretty much was that 'love is weakness'. Henry had read that a hundred times, but looking at his mother's mournful expression really made the truth slam home. Those stories were real, and they didn't all have happy endings, even the ones back in the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes good people were hurt, and sometimes the Evil Queen really did win. _But not this time, _Henry promised himself. _Emma will bring back the happy endings, and when she defeats the Evil Queen, Mom can have hers, too._

"It's okay," Regina said, squeezing his shoulder. "We'll get the curse broken, and then everything will go back to the way it should be."

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years, 3 Months Before the Curse<em>

"Rumplestiltskin."

It was George who made the call, a proud king who refused to let someone else do his dirty work for him. Regina stood to one side of the king as Rumplestiltskin appeared in a cloud of dark red smoke, her expression somewhere between broken and murderous. Next to her, her younger sister sat on the bed with her prince, only having eyes for the oh-so-charming man she'd fallen in love with. It would have been a picturesque scene if the prince Rumplestiltskin needed had not been so busy dying. _Now that could really put a cramp in my plans, _he thought dispassionately. _The boy wasn't one of triplets, after all, and George has already wasted the first one. There's no taking it back if this one dies, too. _But none of those concerns showed on his face; Rumplestiltskin just turned to face the king, his magic sweeping over the prince's prone form and identifying the poison used while he did so.

"You called, dearie?"

George glared; he was not a king to be trifled with, and Rumplestiltskin had allowed the monarch space for his ego in the past because he'd needed him, but now the shoe was on the other foot. George had his second son, his last chance, and that charming prince was now busy expiring on the bed. It was bound to put George in a foul mood, but the Dark One didn't particularly care what kind of mood the petty little king was in. _Just kill him, _his curse whispered. _Your plans will go more smoothly if he's dead. You need the prince, not him._

"I need you to save my son. Quickly," George said, and at least the ornery old man had always been direct. Rumplestiltskin did like that about him.

_Make Charming the king today, and all obstacles will be swept out of their way. You'll have that precious _True Love _you think is worth so much, _the demon within him continued, and Rumplestiltskin paused to consider the words as he turned showily to look at David, twirling his fingers as he did so. It was worth the thought. Trading one for the other _would _be possible. That would meet the price of such magic it would take to thwart Cora's ham-handed attempt to kill her future stepson-in-law. But no. _No, _he told his curse firmly. _Get back in your box. George is useful. _

_For now._

With an effort, he turned his mind back to the present. He had plenty of practice shoving the curse of the Dark One aside, almost three centuries of it, and he knew how to shut it up. Its opinion wasn't welcome, particularly now when he was so close.

"Do you now?" he drawled, pausing to giggle a bit. The madder they thought him, the more likely they were to underestimate him. "It _does _look like you have a problem here, now, doesn't it?"

"He's been poisoned," George said unnecessarily. "Fix it. What's your price?"

"Ah, but I don't want anything from _you_, Your Majesty," Rumplestiltskin told him with a little wiggle, enjoying the horrified look that crossed George's face. Oh, he didn't love this second son, but he was happy enough with the way David had fallen in love with just the right princess. The boy was smart—and would turn out to be a better leader than his dead brother had been—and George might not feel affection for him, but he needed him.

"You can't let it end like this," the king snarled. "I—"

"I said that I didn't want anything from _you, _dearie. Not that I didn't want anything at all," he cut in. "I can heal him, of course. For a price."

"Name it," George repeated, and Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.

Killing the king was starting to look like a more and more appetizing. His curse was cackling within his mind.

"Well, only _you _can help your love, Princess," he said directly, turning to look at Snow White. She had been bent over the prince, with his head in her lap, probably not paying attention to the exchange between the Dark One and the king at all. Now she looked up, her beautiful eyes wide and frightened.

"Me?" she asked. "What can I do?"

Of course, Regina interrupted. "Rumple, now isn't the time to—"

"Oh, hush. Don't you need to run home before mother dearest realizes you've come to visit her least favorite stepdaughter?" Rumplestiltskin cut her off.

"My mother is my concern," Regina snapped peevishly. "Unless you're involved with her again, that is."

Oh, that was _just _what he wanted his student to say in front of people he'd need to continue using. The comment did, however, make Rumplestiltskin twist to glare at Regina. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "And do go home, dearie, before your mother decides to take her thwarted fury out on someone _you _love."

It was a low blow, but it worked. Glaring, Regina reached out to squeeze Snow's shoulder one last time, whispering something that sounded like _Be careful what you promise_, and then she was gone, undoubtedly worrying about her precious stableboy. Once, Rumplestiltskin had actually contemplated using Regina's True Love for Daniel to put his safety valve on the Curse to End All Curses, but he'd seen early on where that would go. She loved him truly enough, but her mother would never let them have a child. Cora would have killed such a grandchild at birth, even though Rumplestiltskin _could _have given the lovers the opportunity to create one, and that would have broken Regina forever. No, he needed something else, and Regina would have to remain his wildcard. That left Snow White and her Prince Charming.

Not watching Regina as she vanished in a swirl of purple smoke, Rumplestiltskin just studied the princess. "You really are the fairest of them all, aren't you?" he murmured, stepping forward to run his fingers through her long dark locks. "You'll do quite nicely."

"Do what?" Snow White demanded, slapping his hand away. Oh, and she was brave, too!

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "A hair. I can heal your beloved prince, but for that I need a hair. Or three."

"_My _hair?"

"Of course."

"But why?" the princess asked, confusion screwing her pretty face up at all the wrong angles.

"Well, that's my concern, isn't it?" he countered, magic sweeping over the prone and moaning prince again. There wasn't much time left, so Rumplestiltskin skipped the rest of the questions and tightened his fingers, tearing a few strands of hair away from Snow White's head. "There. You haven't any use for them any longer, do you?"

She was a quick one, this princess. Rumplestiltskin began to have hope for his Savior, after all. "Fine. Heal him."

"Your wish is my command," he murmured, sketching her a courtly bow.

Then, without further ado, Rumplestiltskin turned to the mostly-unconscious prince, letting his magic sweep out to untangle the threads he had identified during the conversation. His right hand swirled in the air, banishing the trio of hairs to a bottle in his favorite tower in the Dark Castle and summoning a separate bottle at the same time. Stepping forward and sweeping a hand over Charming, he untangled the bulk of the threads and assessed the two different poisons racing through his veins. _Five minutes. Maybe less_, he assessed coolly. It was plenty of time, but George was impatient.

"Can you do it?" the king pressed.

"My dear George, have you _ever _known of something I cannot do?" Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile, not even bothering to look at him.

"Then do it!"

_Get rid of him. It would be so much easier! _Rumplestiltskin masked his annoyance with his ever-present darker self with another giggle, ignoring the king's distress.

Swirling the bottle in his hand, Rumplestiltskin combined the catch-all antidote he'd summoned with some more particular magic, and then reached down with his open hand. Quickly, he yanked the crossbow bolt out, making Charming cry out in pain and Snow shout angrily. She made to grab his wrist, but Rumplestiltskin danced out of her reach and aligned the now-dripping crossbow bolt with the open bottle. One drop, two drops, and then three drops of poisoned blood dripped in, and then he cast the bolt aside without bothering to look where it landed. It clattered to the floor somewhere; he didn't care where. A final twitch of his wrist swirled the potion together, and then he stepped back forward to touch the bottle to Charming's lips.

The prince was barely conscious, but he could swallow well enough, and Rumplestiltskin tipped the entire mixture down his throat as George and Snow both watched with wide eyes. Banishing the bottle in a cloud of green smoke—the color of both poisons Cora had used—Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to the bleeding wound in the prince's chest. His right hand glowed blue, and the wound slowly knitted itself shut, the internal injuries closing first and then finally the torn doublet following suit. Charming's eyes fluttered open, and Rumplestiltskin let himself giggle, covering his relief with his well-known mania.

_There. Back on track, _he told his curse a bit peevishly. _Down, you._

"Enjoy your little war," he told a suddenly very relieved George, and then disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke.

* * *

><p>Emma had never met the florist, though she knew what he looked like. Enough to recognize him and nod a greeting on the street, anyway. She was pretty sure that someone had pointed him out at some point—Henry, maybe?—but Emma certainly didn't know him well enough to know what possibly could have brought him to the sheriff's station. So, she looked up at him with raised eyebrows, swallowing her last bite of a pastrami sandwich and wiping her mouth off with a napkin. Back in the right hand cell, Victoria Scadlock remained stubbornly silent; she'd barely said thank you when Emma delivered her lunch, and Emma still wasn't sure what she should do with the young woman other than bring her up on charges. Still, Victoria was hardly her problem right now, not with the heavyset man standing in front of her so nervously.<p>

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, um, I need. Well…" Moe French trailed off, and Emma gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

"You want to sit down?" she asked as nicely as she could manage, watching the florist shift uneasily from foot to foot.

"Thank you," Moe replied, plopping down into the chair and toying nervously with his scarf.

"So…" Emma said slowly. "What can I do for you? Are you here to report a crime?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Or, I don't think so," the older man replied, and then gave her a helpless look. "I don't know."

"But there's a problem."

Moe nodded hesitantly. "Yes. It's…my daughter."

"Lacey?" Emma asked. "The librarian?"

"Yes." Now, Moe seemed to gather steam once he started talking, and he continued rapidly. "She's in trouble. So much trouble. And I don't know how to help her. We don't talk much these days, and that's probably my fault. I fear I drove her right to that monster, and now she's in so much danger."

"Whoa, what do you mean, _danger_?" Emma asked, perking up. Moe didn't sound like a foolishly worried parent; he sounded like someone in actual desperate fear for his beloved daughter's life. She'd never bothered to learn much about the relationship—or non-relationship—between Lacey French and her father, but now she wished that she had.

"Gold. That monster is going to hurt her, I know it," was the immediate response. "She's his…his _kept _woman or something. He's got her locked up in that house of his like she's his servant, and I can't imagine what he's doing to her."

That made Emma blink. "I thought she'd taken a job as his live-in maid."

"Do you really believe that?" Moe burst out.

Honestly, Emma hadn't bothered to look into where the librarian went after the fire, or at least hadn't thought anything of it beyond overhearing that conversation between Cora and Gold. Gold had sounded rather cold-blooded about having hired Lacey French as a live-in maid, but really, Emma had figured that was better than the alternative of him being _pleased _to have her. Gold was certainly a creepy man, and undoubtedly powerful, but he didn't strike Emma as an abuser of young women. _I think_. All she could do was shrug.

"I don't know what to believe, really," she said honestly. "And I haven't seen any evidence of a crime being committed."

"My Lacey's a good girl. She wouldn't…she wouldn't take up with someone like Gold if he wasn't forcing her," the florist insisted, and Emma sighed.

"I can look into it, if you want," she told him, knowing he wouldn't go away unless she offered.

"Please. I don't know what's going on, but I'm worried for her."

Emma gave him a smile, and then ushered Moe French out of the sheriff's station, making a mental note to ask Regina what she knew about Lacey French. Or maybe Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret might be the right one to ask; she seemed to know most of the down-on-their-luck people in Storybrooke because she traveled in circles that Regina barely even knew existed. Still, Emma hadn't ever heard anyone say anything much about Lacey French, aside from expressing pity for her over the loss of her job at the library. She had a cute little girl, Emma remembered, though no one seemed to know who had actually fathered Renee.

Well, at least looking into this was more interesting than jumping when Cora said jump. Emma _had _wanted to corner Gold and figure out what the shady pawnbroker was up to, so this was a chance to do just that, too.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Thank you again to everyone who is still with me! Hearing from readers so makes my day. (What can I say? I'm an addict.) I did have someone ask why Anastasia makes a different choice in Wonderland, and the answer there is pretty simple. She does because Cora wasn't there to talk her out of going back to Will. In the show, she *is* going to go meet with Will until Cora tells her that Will has already left...and then promptly shows up to tell Will she isn't coming. So, without Cora's interference, Ana chooses love over power. _

_Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Eight: "What Matters Most," where Emma asks Graham for help, David and Regina have a heart to heart, and Emma hunts down Lacey French for answers regarding her employment with Mr. Gold. Back in the past, Belle takes Gabrielle out to play with the children in town and disaster strikes. _


	28. Chapter 28: What Matters Most

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight—"What Matters Most"**_

* * *

><p>Finding Lacey French when the library was closed turned out to be harder than Emma expected. In the end, after three days of trying to run into her without going to Gold's house—given that she wanted to ask about the man, Emma didn't feel right doing it there, particularly if that hulking henchman of his was around—she just about gave up. However, a chance comment to Graham when she was driving him home from the hospital turned up Lacey French's cell phone number, which she hadn't known that the former sheriff had.<p>

"We went to school together," Graham replied with a shrug as she helped him out of the car and back into the wheelchair the hospital had given him. "She used to come to me when Keith was being too much of a pain."

"Stalking her, you mean," Emma supplied, having already encountered her deputy's unhealthy obsession with the former librarian.

"Yeah." Graham grimaced. "Pretty much. Thanks."

Emma'd finished wrestling him into the wheelchair, damn glad that Graham lived on the first floor of his apartment building. He didn't look any happier with the arrangement than she was—it had to be humiliating to have someone helping like this—but Graham dredged up a smile for her, anyway. "Everything okay?" Emma asked.

"Yeah. I was just thinking that I managed to get you to come back to my place after all," her old boss quipped, and Emma snorted out a laugh.

"Don't get too excited," she retorted, but she grinned despite herself. It was great to see Graham coming back to himself after so long in the hospital, and Emma had _missed _him when Cora had forced her to stay away with that damn restraining order.

"Hard to do that from the wheelchair," he replied dryly, then gestured at his front door. "C'mon. Let's go find Lacey's cell number. I know I have it somewhere, even though my phone was destroyed in the accident."

"If your organizational system at home is anything like the one you _didn't _use in the office, it's going to take us years to find it," Emma joked back, and Graham laughed.

"No, I've got an old fashioned phone book, actually."

"Really? I didn't think anyone had those these days."

Graham shrugged. "Guess I'm just an old fashioned kind of guy."

"I kind of like that," Emma admitted, and they shared another smile as she wheeled him up the front walk.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're okay with this?" David asked quietly, and Regina bit back the desire to groan. He'd come to her office to see her during lunch—<em>not <em>the place she really wanted to have this conversation!—and now he was getting cold feet.

_Can't you just go fall in love with Mary Margaret and be done with it? _she wanted to demand. Sometimes just looking at David Nolan made Regina want to tear her hair out. _Why did Mother have to make you _so _much less decisive in this world?_ But those thoughts weren't particularly fair to her cursed 'husband'. David's own actual sense of honor was undoubtedly getting in the way here, and although Regina appreciated his care for her feelings, she really wished he would just listen to her and go romance another woman.

"I'm sure, David," she replied as levelly as she could. "Look…we both know that we haven't been okay in this marriage for a long time. We're friends, and I like being your friend, but we both know that you need something more. If that something is Mary Margaret, then I'm okay with that. Really."

"But what if I…" he trailed off, and Regina tried not to grimace.

"What if you fall in love with her?" she asked gently.

David nodded miserably. "It's one thing to have an affair that's only physical, but you're my _wife_, Regina."

"Do you remember why we got married?" she asked, wishing she could lay the whole truth in front of him, but David Nolan wasn't the type to believe in a mythical curse that made them all miserable. Not yet, and maybe not ever. _Damn this curse._

"Uh, you know, it's funny, but…I can't."

Of course he couldn't remember. The curse didn't care for people looking too hard at their pasts. Then things might fall apart. "My mother wanted it. We didn't. And we tried to make it work, first for ourselves and then for Henry, but we're not in love. We never have been," Regina told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Whatever had happened, Regina was a lot closer to her brother in law now than she ever had been before, and she didn't want him hurting over the vindictive marriage her mother had stuck them in. "It's not your fault. And I want you to be happy."

"It still feels like I'm betraying you," David said doggedly.

"Well, you're not, so stop thinking like that. Maybe it's time for both of us to move on."

Her husband jerked back a little in surprise. "Are you saying you want a divorce?"

Did she ever. But Regina knew that Cora would object, and her mother was far too willing to hurt Henry for Regina's comfort level. Not for the first time, Regina contemplated finding a way to kill her mother—much though she valued family, if Cora was going to force her to choose between her and the rest of Regina's family, Cora would lose ever time. But Regina wouldn't have put it past her mother to insert a caveat in the curse that meant it would _never _break if someone killed her, so she couldn't risk it. And she couldn't risk her mother hurting Henry if Regina's attempt failed. _Just like we can't risk tipping her off too much. If David and I get a divorce, she's going to notice the two of them together, and she's bound to kill one of them if that happens._ So, all Regina did was sigh.

"Why don't you figure out if Mary Margaret is someone you want to spend the rest of your life with first?" she asked as reasonably as she could. "That way you know before we turn Henry's life upside down."

"I can do that," David agreed, squeezing her hand in return. "Thank you, Regina. I don't really know what to say, but…thank you."

Regina smiled back, hating herself and feeling good at the same time. Hopefully, the curse would be broken by the time he figured out what he wanted, and then there would be no obstacles keeping David and Snow apart. And maybe then she could find happiness, too.

Somehow.

* * *

><p><span><em>1 Year Before the Curse<em>

After much argument, Belle had convinced her husband that Gabrielle needed contact with other children. It hadn't mattered so much when their daughter was tiny, but now that she was aging, she needed to learn to make friends and to deal with people other than her parents. Rumplestiltskin had always _known _that, of course; he was a far more experienced parent than Belle was, never panicking over Gabrielle's many moods or even when the toddler managed to fall down the stairs. She could see the love and the hard-won practice inherent in every gesture he made towards their child, and Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin—intellectually—understood the need to socialize their daughter. He was just worried. Time and again, Rumple had told Belle how many enemies he had and how those enemies would gladly hurt their daughter, and while Belle couldn't quite wrap her mind around how _anyone _could harm a child, she understood his point.

Still, they'd been visiting the town at the bottom of his mountain incognito for three months, and nothing had gone wrong yet. Dove always accompanied them, but since the shapeshifter lived on the outskirts of town, it presented no hardship for him. Belle was rather fond of the tall, quiet man, particularly when he was in human form (though she also had to enjoy the way he rode around on Gabrielle's shoulder as a dove, because it made her little girl happier than almost anything else). Dove was a reassuring presence, particularly when she was amongst strangers.

Not that the townspeople were strangers now. She'd grown to know them as Paige, a widow who lived in a cottage in the hills not too far away. Courtesy of the glamour spell that Rumplestiltskin had cast over her, Belle looked like a slightly older woman, taller than she really was and with dark eyes to match her seemingly black hair. Gabrielle still looked the same; it was hard to explain to a two year old why she had to be a different person. To her, Belle looked the same as she always had, but to everyone else, the pair was effectively disguised. It was a bit of Rumple's paranoia that Belle smiled and embraced; she was pretty sure that no one would have recognized her even without the glamour, but if it made him feel better, she was not going to argue. And it did let Belle and Gabrielle go down to the town once a week, supposedly so that Widow Paige could do some shopping and let her daughter play with the local children.

Right now, Gabrielle was sitting between two boys, one her age and one just a little older, building a castle out of mud and sticks. She was going to be an awful mess when they got back to the Dark Castle, but Belle was didn't begrudge her daughter time spent in the dirt. It made Gabrielle happy, and that was what mattered. The two boys, Flynn and Jack, were good kids, as was Jack's sister Jill. Belle liked them, and their mothers, and a quick peek over the edge of her book told her that the trio was still doing well. She wasn't sure where Jill had gone off to, but someone had said something about the little girl being sick, which probably explained why the twins' aunt was out here with them today. Jack and Jill's family was new to Caerleon, but the children's Aunt Lunete was not.

"Fools wanted to call on a fairy," that same aunt was grumbling right now to one of the other women sitting together in the square. Today was the day when the town's women got together to knit and do other social things, and they'd welcomed Belle into their little circle despite the fact that she read instead of doing something more traditional. "My Pierre _told _them that they should call on the lord, but _no_, they wanted a fairy. Said that a fairy would be better with children."

"Obviously, they haven't seen him with children," Gytha, the local midwife piped up. "Demon they might call him, but he's kind to the little ones."

"An' more fair than a fairy, too," Dob, the mayor's wife agreed. "At least he tells you his price upfront. Fairies are likely to come back years later, wanting something, and then you're obligated to listen to them because they helped your babe."

Smiling into her book, Belle kept her own council. She'd been so very surprised on her first trip to Caerleon to find that the town's residents not only tolerated Rumplestiltskin as their lord but actually _respected _him, but by now she knew that he actually took his duties as their ruler rather seriously. He always shrugged self-effacingly and said that it was the peasant in him, but Belle knew that it really was the fact that he _cared _for these people shining through. Oh, he'd never be some great philanthropist, but Rumple was a better man than he gave himself credit for. They were his people, and he took care of them.

Still, she didn't think he'd be happy to learn that a fairy had been on his lands, so Belle planned to keep that little fact to herself. There was no need to get Rumple worked up over something innocent.

"Idiots," Jack and Jill's aunt concluded, gesturing irritably with her head. "But they got their fairy."

Jack and Jill's parents owned the local brewery, which meant their shop—and their home, which was above it—snuggled right up on the square. Belle looked up idly, just in time to see a fairy fly out of the door. Jill came skipping out a moment later, looking hale and happy, and that _would _have taken up all of Belle's attention if the blue-green dressed fairy hadn't followed the three year old over.

The other children oohed and giggled as Jill introduced her new friend: "This is Cyan! Mamma says she saved me."

"Hello, children," the Cyan Fairy said solemnly, and the children chorused a greeting back. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes!" the group replied, and Belle smiled a bit. She knew her husband's feelings about fairies, but clearly some of them were better than others, and apparently the Cyan Fairy was one of the good ones. Belle even remembered reading a bit about her in one of Rumple's books on the history of magic; she was one of the older fairies, and had been around almost as long as the Blue Fairy.

A fluttering of wings distracted Belle momentarily; Dove had shapeshifted and was flying away. But she did not have time to wonder why before the fairy spoke again.

"But there is one amongst you who is different from the others," Cyan continued, and Belle sat up straight as the fairy flew to hover near Gabrielle. "Tell me, child, what is your name?"

"Gabrielle," Belle's two year old daughter answered solemnly, looking up at the fairy with her father's big brown eyes.

"Hello, Gabrielle." The fairy dipped down, still flying, but now on eye-level with Gabrielle. "Why is there dark magic on you, child?"

Belle's heart leapt into her throat, and she was on her feet, book carelessly discarded, and managed to get in before the two year old could answer. "Gabrielle, come here."

"Mamma?" Gabrielle twisted to look at her in confusion, but she was a good girl, and started toddling towards Belle even as Belle made a beeline for her daughter. But Cyan's head snapped up, calculation tearing through her eyes, and suddenly her wand was out, and fairy magic wrapped around Gabrielle.

Gabrielle was used to magic, so she didn't complain as sparkling fairy dust lifted her off her feet, but Belle jumped for her, knowing that everything was about to go wrong. Somehow, the situation had spiraled so far out of control before she could even blink, and this fairy _couldn't _be about to take her child away. Fairies didn't do that!

"Let my daughter go!" she demanded, lunging for Gabrielle. A twitch of Cyan's wrist sent the child too high for Belle to reach. "What are you doing?"

"I know the magic on this child," Cyan replied imperiously. "And if you have allowed this to happen, you cannot be permitted to keep her."

"I cannot _what_? She's my daughter!"

"She was," Cyan retorted, already growing smaller in the distance—and with Gabrielle in tow.

"Mamma!" Gabrielle cried, frightened now and struggling against the magic that held her. Cyan was flying low, either to keep from scaring Gabrielle more or because Gabrielle was fighting her. And Gabrielle was; the two year old was kicking and screaming as she was magically flown around buildings and over streets, heading away from town and away from the mountain that the Dark Castle resided upon. Belle rushed after them, running as hard as she could, pushing through the suddenly gaping crowds, and she managed to keep up until Cyan finally reached the town's outer edge and tried to hoist herself and her stolen charge higher into the air.

"Dratted child!" Belle could hear the fairy snarling, and somehow she got the impression that Gabrielle's innate magical talents were making it hard for the fairy to fly faster. Cyan looked like she was trying to fly underwater; her wings were beating harder and harder and she was obviously struggling. But whatever friction she'd encountered, the fairy finally overcame it with a flick of her wand, and she sped up.

"Let go!" Gabrielle howled, crying and screaming in fear. _This _magic wasn't the magic she knew, and—

Belle suddenly realized what she should have been doing all along, had her panic not seized control of her mind. Still running, she shouted his name as loudly as she could, fueling the call with all the desperate terror she felt for their child.

"_Rumplestiltskin!"_

* * *

><p>There was a distinctive smell of smoke in the house when Rumplestiltskin got home that evening, and had he not heard Renee giggling, he would have quickly grown worried. As it was, he just coughed and closed the front door behind himself, limping his way into the kitchen. Their daughter was seated at the table, playing with a set of alphabet blocks, but Belle was busy scraping a pan out into the trash. Whatever had been in it was burned black, charred beyond recognition and rather crusty looking. It was certainly the source of the stench, too.<p>

"What happened?" he asked as casually as he could, trying to guess what had been in the pan based on how it smelled when burnt. Chicken of some sort, maybe?

Belle looked up guiltily, and her blush was adorable. "A little cooking accident?"

"There's no need, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin said, making his way fully into the kitchen as Renee piped up:

"Mamma burned it!" She punctuated the announcement by smashing a block into the table, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a laugh until his mind latched onto the word choice.

"'Mamma'?" he echoed, glancing at Belle.

She shrugged. "She goes through stages. I guess this is a new one."

"Or an old one."

"Do you think so?" Finally finished with the pan, Belle shoved in into the sink, squirting some dish soap in and filling it with hot water. "Is that possible?"

"There's no way to know," Rumplestiltskin answered honestly, limping over to the trash can and taking it back to where it belonged on the other side of the kitchen. "Children are remarkably flexible, and she's the product of True Love—the same True Love that I put on the curse to wake you up. She might begin to remember, and she might not."

"So, you're saying that anything could happen?" his wife smiled over her shoulder at him. "And you have _no _idea what to expect, despite being the most powerful sorcerer alive?"

"Pretty much. Though I'd bet against you learning to cook," he retorted playfully.

"Hey!"

Rumplestiltskin stepped up next to her, bending to kiss her neck as Renee giggled and smashed a few more blocks together. "I just call things the way they are, my dear," he murmured.

"I bet you do," she laughed.

"So, what _was _that, anyway?" Rumplestiltskin asked lightly, gesturing at the soaking pan.

"It started as chicken," Belle admitted. "And I fear that I wasted all of it in my mess."

"Well, then I suppose we'll just have to order in," he replied with a shrug, kissing her cheek. "Worse disasters have happened. You could have lit the kitchen on fire."

"I only did that once!" she protested. "And it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't insisted on keeping _straw _in the castle kitchen."

Laughing, Rumplestiltskin wrapped his left arm around his wife's waist. "There's a reason I stopped letting you cook in the Dark Castle, sweetheart. And given that there's no magic to put out your fires here, I think you should stick to the microwave."

Belle shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. Instead, she twisted in his arms to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Chinese or pizza?"

For a moment, the sheer domesticity of the situation floored Rumplestiltskin; how many months had he spent hoping for moments like this, moments when he could simply _live _with his wife and child? He'd not dared hope a day like this might come before the curse was broken, and now he was going to cling to it for all he was worth. He loved them both so much, and he would do everything he could to prove that every day. So, he smiled at Belle, letting his eyes drift over to where Renee was still determinedly smashing her blocks together at the table, paying no mind when the A, N, and P went flying off the table. She only giggled cheerfully and started building a pyramid with the remaining blocks, until she smashed that, too, with a triumphant grin. Looking back at his wife, he replied:

"I shudder to think of the mess our little one could make of Chinese. Let's stick with pizza."

* * *

><p><span><em>1 Year Before the Curse<em>

"_Rumplestiltskin!"_

The call had cut in on him moments after Dove arrived, still in avian form and clearly distressed. Since he'd sent the shapeshifter to watch over his wife and daughter in town, Rumplestiltskin had immediately stepped away from his wheel and gathered power to himself, ready for anything. He'd barely opened his mouth to ask Dove what the problem was when Belle's desperate voice invaded his mind, sharp and terrified and calling for _him._ Immediately, Rumplestiltskin's magic swirled around them both, dragging him and Dove both to Belle's location. Rumplestiltskin didn't stop to determine where his wife was, only that she needed him, and he was not going to hesitate. Not for anything.

Dove bolted upwards the moment they landed in a swirl of purple smoke just outside the town walls, and the power rearing into Rumplestiltskin's hands sizzled ominously as he took in the scene before him: Belle, distraught. Gabrielle, dangling in the air, held up only by a fairy's magic. A fairy, Cyan, one of Reul Ghorm's closest and most close-minded followers. And she had his _daughter._

_Kill the fairy, _his curse whispered.

_Gladly_, Rumplestiltskin raged silently, calling spells to mind, sorting through them like lightning to find one that would tear his daughter away from the fairy without harming Gabrielle. He was furious, and his curse was howling for vengeance, but he was not such a creature of rage and passion that Rumplestiltskin could not be careful. Not with his daughter at stake. Bringing a fairy down from flight was hard, and Cyan arched higher into the air the moment she saw him, but he had a plan with a high likelihood of success. His daughter's terrified scream, however, dug giant holes in his concentration, and his fury fizzled as worry overrode every other emotion. Focusing on his anger, Rumplestiltskin brought his hands up—

Only to watch a white, feathered blur crash right into the fairy, who yelped and rolled wildly in midair, her wings flapping desperately as she struggled to maintain altitude. The impact sent her into a spin, and she almost dropped her wand. It would have been amusing had Cyan not lost control of Gabrielle at the same time, and a little girl's piercing scream filled the air as Dove whirled around for another pass.

"Papa!" Gabrielle screeched as his magic reached out for her, plucking her out of the Cyan Fairy's grasp even as the fairy brought her wand back around. But Dove hit the winged flea again, and though Cyan swung her wand in his direction, a blast of magic from Rumplestiltskin knocked her off balance once more, long enough for Dove to get clear and Gabrielle to land in Rumplestiltskin's arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck immediately, holding on tight, and Rumplestiltskin felt tears against his neck.

"Papa," his daughter sobbed, and his anger again warred with his worry for control.

"Hush, princess, it's all right," he soothed her, but his eyes were still on the fairy.

_Now she knows. She cannot survive this. _Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure if that thought was his own or belonged to the curse; either way, it was accurate. For two years he had kept the secret of his daughter's birth, and now a fairy knew. _But not for long._ Fury filled his body, sharpened his magic, and made a roaring madness fill his mind. Cradling his little girl close with his left arm, Rumplestiltskin let his right hand flash out, fire leaping out of his fingers and engulfing the Cyan Fairy. A second spell, a much quieter and more subtle one, rode the stream of fire towards the fairy, because Rumplestiltskin was angry but not a fool. He knew a senior fairy would be able to deflect the first attack, but he had no intentions of letting her get away.

None _whatsoever._

"Rumple!" Belle shouted, and suddenly she was at his side. Her calling him had unlocked the glamour she was wearing, leaving her looking like Belle to anyone who saw her, but that didn't matter now.

"Take her," he said quickly, letting the second spell wrap around the fairy and pull her out of the sky. Belle accepted their daughter, though she had to pry her arms away from Rumplestiltskin's neck to do so.

"Don't go, Papa!" Gabrielle wailed, and Rumplestiltskin shot his little girl a quick smile as he stepped clear of his family.

"I'll be right here, Gabi," he promised, his hands coming up to deflect the incoming attack from Cyan.

Of course the fairy attacked. She had no choice, what with that second spell hauling her towards the ground at a dizzying rate. Cyan was quick, however; she managed to catch herself and not crash. But she wasn't powerful enough to stop the Dark One in a rage, and he wheeled on her, one spell striking out after another, roaring in on the fairy and hammering her _hard_. She staggered drunkenly even as Rumplestiltskin shrugged aside Cyan's attempts to harm him. Fairy dust was anathema to his curse, but his fury was more powerful, and it ate through the light magic aimed his way. He'd probably have some issues later, aches and pains he'd not appreciate, but for now he could ignore it. He could pay that price once his family was safe.

Contemptuously, Rumplestiltskin swatted Cyan's next attack aside and stepped towards the fairy, snarling. Cyan threw another attack at him, a swirl of purple dust that Rumplestiltskin teleported away from, and then she tried to make for the sky, jetting upwards with her wings flapping madly. But Rumplestiltskin was having none of that; he brought his hand up to shoulder height and then snapped it down palm facing the ground and magic mimicking his motion. Power slammed into Cyan from above, forcing her down, and this time she bounced off the forest floor like a yoyo. She tried to get up, but he hammered her down again, his hands starting to spark with pure dark magic.

_Threaten my family, will you? Frighten my daughter? This is the last thing you will do, fairy._

"Rumple, what are you doing?" Belle asked frantically from his left, and her voice might have been the only thing able to cut through his fury at the moment.

"She has to be stopped. She'll tell the others, and then you and Gabrielle will never be safe," he replied, whirling back to face Cyan.

"But you can't—"

"Release me, Dark One!" Cyan ordered sharply, struggling a few feet into the air. One of her wings was bent at an odd angle, and Rumplestiltskin flicked magic at her when she tried to fix it, making black lightning crackle over both of her wings. Crying out, the fairy tumbled back to the ground.

"There!" Rumplestiltskin giggled, high-pitched and nasty. "I've released you. Happy?"

"Rumple, surely she won't endanger us anymore," Belle whispered desperately, stepping close to him despite the rage whipping around him like a whirlwind. "You're not the monster they think you are. You can make a deal with her. Can't you? Please?"

"She won't keep it," he snorted. "Will you, dear?"

Cyan tried to take off again, and Rumplestiltskin slammed her down a third time, relishing her cry of pain. _Kill her slowly, _the curse purred. _Make her pay._ He'd never reveled in torturing anyone, but now might be the time to start. This damn fairy had tried to steal his daughter, his little girl—

Gabrielle was still crying, quietly now, her face buried in her mother's shoulder and thankfully not watching her father butcher a fairy. Her fear, however, promptly drowned the worst of Rumplestiltskin's rage, pouring ice cold water on his fury and reminding him that no matter what else he was, he was a father first. The curse howled impotently in his mind, but looking at his daughter brought the monster out of the man. For a long moment, he stood transfixed, looking at his crying daughter and wondering how in the world _anyone _could endanger her, even a fairy who hated everything the Dark One stood for. As his attention shifted, so did his magic, allowing Cyan time to transform into her human sized self, wand in hand.

"Your spawn cannot be allowed to live," the fairy finally answered his question loftily, and _those _words made the father rage, not just the monster.

"_What _did you call her?" Belle demanded.

Cyan's lips curled up into a sneer. "She is an abomination. No Dark One has ever been allowed to breed, and for good reason!"

"Allowed to what?" Belle stepped forward next to him, and had her shout not made Gabrielle whimper quietly, Rumplestiltskin's wife might have said more. But their daughter's tears made Belle soften, and she shushed Gabrielle gently, her eyes travelling to Rumplestiltskin even as Cyan spat:

"You poor deluded girl. You can still be saved, but the demonspawn must be destroyed. There is no other way," the fairy decreed, and even Rumplestiltskin felt his eyes widen at that declaration. Was Cyan really so foolish? Had she really just said that in front of _him_?

His gaze met Belle's. This fairy wanted their daughter dead. Belle looked desperately unhappy, near to tears, but her eyes were also full of understanding. _The demonspawn must be destroyed._ They both knew what would happen if Cyan was allowed to tell the other fairies about their daughter.

"Do what you have to," Belle said softly, turning away to shield Gabrielle's gaze. Belle was the most forgiving person that Rumplestiltskin had ever met, but this was one thing that neither of them could ever excuse.

Even his curse loved Belle in that moment. _Revel in it, _the darkness whispered, but Rumplestiltskin pushed that aside. He would kill Cyan quickly, for his wife's sake. For his daughter's. Power filled his fingers, and Rumplestiltskin whirled back to face the fairy who had decreed that their daughter had to die. He had perfected a dozen different ways to kill fairies over the centuries, and Rumplestiltskin called four of them to hand as he pounded magic into Cyan. One spell after another hit, overwhelming even this most senior of fairies, and then Rumplestiltskin slipped his favorite fairy-killing enchantment through her defenses.

Cyan disappeared in a flash of blue and green light, power arching out from the space where the fairy had been. A flick of his wrist brought her wand to his hand—Rumplestiltskin was not one to waste an opportunity, after all—but then he turned away from the cloud of fairy dust slowly drifting to the ground.

"Belle?" he asked tentatively, terrified that this—very necessary—killing had lost him the family he had just fought to protect. He knew that his wife didn't like his darker side; she had talked him out of killing the Huntsman and would likely try do the same every time she got the chance. Belle was _good _where he was dark, and he hoped like hell that their daughter would turn out like her mother, not like him. But Rumplestiltskin didn't know what he would do if he lost them. "Sweetheart?"

She turned back to face him, and there were indeed tears streaking down her face.

"I had to," he whispered helplessly. "Please understand. She would have told the other fairies, and they would never have stopped trying to take Gabrielle. I couldn't—I couldn't let them take her."

He would have babbled onwards if Belle hadn't cut him off, nodding rapidly. "I know," she whispered, stepping forward instead of running away from him like Rumplestiltskin had expected. "It's all right. You did what you had to."

Suddenly, his wife and his daughter were in his arms, and Rumplestiltskin held them both tightly. Emotion welled up in his throat, too thick to allow him to speak, so he just wrapped his arms around them and held on. Rumplestiltskin had rarely been so terrified in his life as he had been in those moments, both in watching a fairy try to steal his beloved daughter and then worrying his own actions—and his furious curse—would make his family leave.

"I love you," Rumplestiltskin whispered.

"And we love you," Belle replied.

Small hands reached out for him, and Rumplestiltskin felt his daughter shift to cling to both of her parents. Her touch combined with Belle's to quiet the raging of his thwarted curse; it was furious for having been denied a messy and slow death for an enemy, but Rumplestiltskin could not care. His family was safe. That was all that mattered.

* * *

><p>Emma finally managed to get a hold of Lacey French the day after Graham gave her the former librarian's number. She'd had to leave a message, which meant Lacey called her back the next morning, complete with a laughing apology about how Renee had gotten ahold of her phone and somehow turned the ringer off. The story rang true, so Emma didn't argue; instead, she asked Lacey if she would be willing to meet Emma for lunch the next day. Of course, that created a problem in and of itself, but eventually Lacey was able to talk Ruby into babysitting so that they could eat at Granny's without a three year old interruption. Emma tried to hide how relieved she was when Lacey dropped her daughter off with the waitress; she was barely managing to be a (sort of) mother to a ten year old, and had no idea how she'd cope with a kid a lot younger than that. Lacey, however, seemed perfectly serene about motherhood, despite being a handful of years younger than Emma.<p>

"So," the displaced librarian began cheerfully, "what did you want to talk about?"

Emma had thought long and hard about how to approach this conversation, and in the end she'd decided to go with being blunt. "You," she replied. "I know things can't be easy for you since the library burned down, and a lot of people are worried about you."

"You mean they're worried about me working for Mr. Gold," Lacey answered just as frankly, meeting Emma's eyes. There was an odd sort of confidence in the former librarian's blue eyes, and a directness that Emma hadn't expected.

"Kind of, yeah," the sheriff admitted. "It's…out of character for him, and he's not the type to offer up charity. So, people are worried."

"That's the second time you've said that," the brunette pointed out. "Who are these 'people'?"

"Your father, for one." Man, Emma really was starting to feel uncomfortable. Lacey hardly seemed abused, despite what Moe French seemed to fear. But maybe Moe was on to something, and if Lacey was in trouble, Emma wanted to help.

That made the former librarian snort. "Oh, you mean the man who kicked me out and told me not to come back unless I put my daughter up for adoption? I'm glad he's so worried about us now, but it's a little bit late for that. If he wanted to take care of me, he should have done it during the first three years of Renee's life."

_It might have been nice if Moe had mentioned that, too, in his crusade to get me to help his daughter, _the sheriff thought a bit testily, wishing the florist was there to have this suddenly awkward conversation instead of her. Damn him.

"He said the two of you weren't talking, but that he's worried he, uh, drove you to Gold." Emma shrugged, watching Lacey's body language as much as she paid attention to her actual words. Lacey didn't exhibit any of the traits most battered women did; she wasn't apologizing for Gold, she wasn't frightened, and she was straightforward as hell. Her blue eyes were clear and determined, even a little angry, but then again, if Emma had been in her shoes, she might have been angry, too. After all, Emma knew what it was like to be young, pregnant, and afraid. She _didn't _know what it was like to have your only family abandon you because you were going to have a child, but she had enough imagination to know how much it had to hurt.

"My father didn't drive me anywhere," Lacey said shortly. "Gold offered me a job because I worked for him before. I _accepted_ it because he's a better man than people give him credit for, and I know that _he _won't demand I give up my daughter, which is more credit than I can give my father."

Emma blinked. Now _there _was the sign she was looking for, the odd excuse that was out of place with the situation. "Are you saying that you and Gold aren't involved in anyway?"

"I'm saying that it's none of your business if we are," was the immediate response, and Emma felt her suspicions increase tenfold.

Unbidden, the memory of Gold scoffing at Cora's barely-veiled insinuation that part of Lacey's job was to provide sexual favors came to mind. But the pawnbroker hadn't denied it, and that set Emma's teeth on edge. And now Lacey wasn't exactly saying no, either, which Emma knew was the same as a giant, neon yellow 'YES' printed on the wall behind Granny's bar. She'd known that the pawnbroker was a slimy bastard, but this was a bit much. Again, she thought of a few more oblique ways to bring up the topic, but in the end, Emma again opted for being blunt.

"You know that it's illegal to pay someone for sex, right?" she asked.

Lacey actually laughed. "Is that what you think is happening?" she said incredulously. "Sheriff, whatever you think is going on between Gold and I, I promise you that you're wrong. And that I'm exactly where I want to be. I'm _happy._"

"Are you sure about that?" Emma pressed. But she knew what answer she'd get. Lacey was clever, but not quite clever enough; the younger woman hadn't denied sleeping with Gold and she was definitely desperate enough to pretend she wanted to. However, Emma knew that she couldn't actually do anything as sheriff unless someone made a complaint, and Moe French's worries weren't enough to start a real investigation.

"Quite," Lacey replied predictably.

Still, Emma had to try one more tact. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? Even if it's just a change of pace. Or job."

"I will," the younger woman promised, rising to collect her child from Ruby. But Emma knew that she wouldn't call.

It was…weird, though. Lacey French had never struck Emma as the bold and decisive type. She was smart, sure, but she was also quiet and a little bit mousy. Emma was quite sure that Gold could eat that attitude of hers for breakfast, and that Lacey's present determination was probably manufactured. She hadn't lied, not exactly, but Emma knew Lacey wasn't telling the whole truth, either. _Except when it comes to her wanting to hang onto Renee. _That _was truthful as hell, _Emma thought to herself. And it was something she could understand. Emma had given Henry up to give him his best chance; Lacey was willing to work for the town's shadiest man if it got her daughter the care she wanted Renee to have.

Still, she was going to keep an eye on the situation. Even if she couldn't do anything official yet.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__So, how do you think Rumplestiltskin's stance on protecting his children is going to change after this little event? And how far will Emma dig into the Lacey/Gold issue? _

_Next up is Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Love and Revenge," where Henry makes assumptions, Regina confronts Gold about Lacey, and Emma gets stuck in the middle. Back in the past, Charming receives an unexpected visitor, and Regina intervenes in another one of her mother's plans._

_For anyone who is interested, you can now find me on tumblr under "To See How The Story Ends". There's a link at the top of my profile page._


	29. Chapter 29: Love and Revenge

_**Chapter Twenty-Nine—"Love and Revenge"**_

* * *

><p>Well, that wasn't a sight that Storybrooke saw every day.<p>

Emma almost ran into the pair leaving the Sheriff's Station, and Cora's smile immediately put her on edge. Regina stood slightly to her mother's left, scowling as her mother smirked, but aside from their expressions, mother and daughter seemed to match perfectly. They both wore immaculate gray suits, with their dark hair styled just so; if Emma didn't know better, she would have thought that Regina was trying to emulate her mother. They really _did _look alike, like powerful women who went after what they wanted and didn't look back. The difference, Emma supposed, lay in _what _they were after. _And in now they chase those goals._

"Sheriff Swan," the mayor purred. "I was just looking for you."

"Were you?" Emma asked, now thoroughly on her guard. So far, she'd managed to avoid getting dragged into any of Cora's little jobs, but she knew that her luck wasn't going to hold forever. Graham was a good man, and he'd still been sucked in, despite his personal inclinations. Since Emma didn't believe any of the nonsense about Cora having Graham's heart, no matter what Henry said, she instead understood that the mayor was both smart and ruthless, and would undoubtedly find a way to force Emma to her will if Emma wasn't careful.

"Of course I was. I just happened to run into poor Moe French inside Granny's, and he's terribly worried for his daughter." The mayor paused, looking at Emma with raised eyebrows and clearly waiting for her to get the hint.

"Yeah, I've heard," she replied dryly.

"Well, then what are you going to do about it?" Cora demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked what you were going to do about it, _Sheriff_," was the cold response. "A respectable business owner is concerned about his daughter's safety, and you're prancing about town with my grandson. Why don't you do your job instead of trying to steal my daughter's son?"

"Mother," Regina protested, but Cora shot her a glare and she fell silent. There was a subtext there that Emma was missing, but she could hardly ask with Regina's mother present.

"I talked to Lacey," Emma retorted defensively, glaring back at the mayor. "So, unless you know something _helpful_, that's all I can do unless she complains about Gold."

Cora might be able to cow her daughter, but Emma was another story, and she faced the older woman squarely, daring her to order her to do something illegal. Emma would have relished that, but unfortunately, Cora was not so stupid.

"You really no nothing about this little town you're supposed to _protect_, do you?" Cora replied acidly, but there was a smirk behind the vitriol that worried Emma. "Mark my words, dear. Gold will hurt Lacey terribly before this is over, and if you do nothing, it will be on your head."

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years, 4 Months Before the Curse<em>

The pathetic little lovebirds had George in their corner. But of course the ambitious son of a bitch would back Snow over Cora; he wanted his nitwitted son to inherit two kingdoms, and he didn't want to wait for Cora to die to accomplish that. Had George been a little more patient, he could have wed James to Regina, but no, he preferred war. _If it's war he wants, war he shall have, _Cora seethed, standing in the clearing and trying not to pace. She had put up with this foolishness for over a year. She had turned a blind eye while George sheltered her traitorous stepdaughter, only striking out at Snow and not at George or his kingdom. _Or his precious boy. _She hadn't tried to harm James, either, and that little kindness was far more than George had earned.

Cora had actually contemplated killing George for some time, although she'd eventually decided against it. For now. While she was certain that his untested son would not prove nearly as ruthless or as intelligent as his father, now was just not the time. James be easy for Regina to control after they married, and perhaps then Cora would act to make him king. But not before. First, she wanted to rub George's nose in his failure. George had backed the wrong contender, and Cora was going to make sure that her fellow monarch knew that before she disposed of him.

"You called, dearie?" a high-pitched voice came from behind her, and Cora turned, smiling as her onetime lover—the only man she had ever actually loved—appeared in a swirl of red smoke. She hadn't been certain that he would come, but she knew that she could make this worth his while, and had infused that confidence in her call.

"I did," she purred, stepping towards him and relishing how her ornate dress swished around her. Cora had come so far from the first days Rumplestiltskin had known her, and she would not falter now.

He giggled, all sharp edges and darkness and so very desirable. It was all Cora could to do keep her hands off of him; his dark core had always been what drew her in, and watching him embrace it gave her the chills. "And what did you want? My patience is limited, particularly when it comes to you."

"Still sore, Rumple?" Cora asked gently, stopping an arms' length away from him. "Perhaps someday you will forgive me."

"Not before you have your vengeance, though, hmm?" he tittered, and she loved how well he could read her. What did Rumplestiltskin care for Eva's daughter, anyway? He would help her. He always had, even when he was angered by her betrayal.

"You know me too well," she smiled.

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "_That's_ not hard," he snapped, and yes, he was clearly still sore. Part of Cora treasured that, treasured knowing that she'd hurt him so deeply because he still cared for her. He'd come around eventually, or she'd find a way to get his dagger and then get what she wanted despite his objections. "What do you want?"

"A curse," Cora replied, ignoring Rumple's temper. He wouldn't lash out at her. If he had ever been going to do that, it would have been years ago. "The most horrible curse that you have."

"Ooooh. Now we're talking. Want to destroy your little stepdaughter, do you?"

"Of course."

Scaled and clawed hands rubbed together, and Cora felt excitement rise within her. Her own knowledge of magic and curses was extensive, but nothing could compare to Rumplestiltskin's centuries of study. She didn't want to settle for a sleeping curse or an aging curse; both were too mundane and not nearly horrible enough to suit her needs. Cora didn't even want to turn Snow into something nasty; no, that would be too easy for the little brat. She'd contemplated turning Snow to stone, or trapping her inside a mirror as she had the foolish genie, but she was certain that Rumple had something better.

"And how _terrible _of a curse are you looking for, _Your Majesty?_" the imp asked, twirling his hands excitedly. She always loved it when he gleefully embraced his inner darkness, and Cora found herself smiling unrestrainedly for the first time in years.

"The worst you have, of course."

Blackened teeth flashed in a feral grin. "It's going to cost you."

"It always does." She met his reptilian eyes easily and repeated the question Rumplestiltskin had asked a few minutes earlier. "What do you want?"

"A favor," he replied immediately. "Of my choosing. _When _I choose. No exceptions."

Cora was no fool, and she weighed the pros and cons of offering him a carte blanche carefully. Rumplestiltskin was clever, cleverer than anyone she had ever known, and _he _could see the future. It was very possible that he was already aware of the situation in which he would use such favor, and odds were good that it wasn't a time Cora would like to grant him one. She had to balance that against her present desire for vengeance, decide which was more important to her. She _could _brew up a sleeping curse for Snow without Rumple's help, and then be free of any future demands of his. Or she could take a chance.

But in the end, Cora wanted more. She always did.

"Agreed. Provided your curse measures up."

"A Nightmare Curse," the Dark One volunteered immediately, and Cora perked up. She had hoped he would come up with something deliciously nasty, but _that_…

"You have the recipe?" she demanded a little breathlessly.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Of course I do. Do we have a deal?"

"We do."

* * *

><p>Somehow, Emma had wound up eating dinner with the Nolans. Again. She hated imposing like this, despite the fact that David and Regina told her repeatedly that she wasn't. But refusing their invitations was always hard, particularly when Mary Margaret was grading class projects this evening and not very good company. Besides, having multiple friends rather nice, even if the entire idea was kind of new and startling. Common sense said that Emma shouldn't befriend the adopted parents of her child, but since when did anything in Storybrooke make sense?<p>

"Where's David, anyway?" she asked Regina as she helped the other woman put a salad together. Emma had been regulated to chopping vegetables, which was about the limit of her cooking prowess, but she was all right with that. It freed Henry up to do the homework both of his mothers wanted him concentrating on.

"Working a bit late at the animal shelter. He still hasn't found someone to take on Graham's volunteer shifts, so he covers the evening feedings before he goes home," Regina replied with a shrug. Then she smiled. "That's why I drafted you to help with dinner."

"I bet he's more useful than I am," she snorted.

"Not really," Henry replied, looking up from his English homework. "Dad's not really good with cooking."

"Well, I'm not, either, kid."

"I can tell." Henry grinned, and then pushed his textbook aside, replacing it immediately with the fairy tale book. Biting back a groan, Emma racked her mind for a conversation topic that _didn't _involve the curse, and finally landed on the one that had occupied her morning. Somehow, she managed to get in before Henry started in about some fairy tale character or another, asking Regina:

"So, I've been meaning to ask you something, particularly after your mother brought it up so nicely this morning," she started, and waited for Regina to nod before continuing. "What's the deal with Lacey French? Everyone talks about what a nice girl she is, and how horrible it is for her to be working for Gold, but no one seems to have any actual information."

"She's Belle from _Beauty and the Beast,_" Henry piped up immediately, and Emma gave Regina a look.

Regina just smiled crookedly. "I don't really know her, honestly. I know she worked for Gold in his shop a few years ago, but that's it. I have no idea what would make him hire her, particularly as a live-in maid. He's not usually into charity."

"There seemed to be something between them when I saw them at the hospital the day Ashley gave birth," Emma contemplated.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'd be surprised if there was. Gold isn't…well, he's not exactly what I'd call a ladies' man," she said dryly.

"You can say that again," Emma snorted, only for Henry to interject again.

"He's the Beast, Emma," the ten year old said solemnly. "Don't you see it? He hired her because the curse is weakening, and because they're True Love. It _has _to work out for them. They're each other's happy endings."

There were times when she really wanted to strangle the kid, but at least Regina got in before Emma could say something she could regret.

"I don't know that story, Henry, but I do know Gold. And I'd be very surprised if he's your Beast," the older woman said, only to prompt their son into rolling his eyes.

"You only know _Gold_, not the Beast."

And wasn't that just the way that Henry saw the world? Emma managed not to groan, but barely. She loved the kid, she really did, but did _every _answer have to be rooted in that damn Book? She was too frustrated to notice the calculating look on Regina's face, however, particularly once Regina changed the subject.

* * *

><p>"What <em>is <em>your game, anyway?" Regina demanded, striding into the shop the next day as if she owned the place. She wasn't big on subtlety, this former student of his, but sometimes Rumplestiltskin felt that Regina had made an art out of rudeness.

"You're going to have to be more specific when you ask what game I'm playing," he told her with a thin smile. "There are so many to choose from."

That made her snort with amusement, but Regina sobered quickly. "Lacey French. Why hire her?" She paused to glare at him. "And _don't _tell me it was out of the goodness of your heart. I'm not convinced you have one of those."

"Oh, I'm hurt," Rumplestiltskin replied, putting a hand over his heart with a hint of his old flair. "Do you really think so little of me, Regina?"

"You know I do," she shot back, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a smile. Yes, sometimes it was good to exchange barbs with an old friend. Regina had steered clear of the shop for too long, and although he'd never admit it, particularly not where she could hear him, he'd started to miss her.

"Well, I do believe that's a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, my dear 'Dark Princess'. Don't you?"

Regina snorted. "Are you this much of a smart ass with my mother?" she asked, and then shook her head. "Don't answer that. And don't change the subject."

"I didn't know I had," he answered, letting his lips twitch into a slight smirk.

"Bullshit," his former student retorted, but her tone was almost cheerful. Her eyes, however, were worried. _For me? My, this is a little new. Cora must be frightening her with her threats; Regina is trying to protect everyone she's ever cared about, now._ "Back to my point. Why _did _you hire the sweet little librarian? Everyone seems to think you're screwing her, but we both know she's not your type."

Rumplestiltskin almost laughed aloud, and in the end let himself chuckle ever so slightly. "What _do _you think is my type, anyway?" he had to ask, curious.

"My mother."

_That _made his amusement vanish in a heartbeat and a scowl cross his face. "Whatever you think is between your mother and I, Regina, rest assured that it's nothing of what you think."

"Sure it isn't," she said dryly, and then looked him straight in the eye. "So? Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"No, I'm not," Rumplestiltskin replied honestly, figuring that Regina deserved that much. She trusted him, after all, even when she shouldn't. "I have my reasons."

"I'm not in the mood for games, Rumple."

"What a coincidence. Neither am I."

Regina glared; Rumplestiltskin met her gaze levelly, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Regina had never been long on patience, and it never took much to set her off. Rumplestiltskin was half looking forward to it; with Regina avoiding him due to her fear that Cora would figure too much out, he'd had few opportunities to pit his wits against someone else smart and snarky. But the expected outburst never came. Instead, Regina just sighed and looked away.

"Try to be careful," she said heavily. "If you hurt the girl, there's nothing anyone can do to protect you once the curse breaks."

"I'm not that kind of monster." Twice in one afternoon, Regina had managed to poor ice water on his good temper. Why was it that people always assumed he was some despoiler of fair maidens? _If I was some ravisher of young women, _you _would never have been safe with me_, Rumplestiltskin almost added, but managed to stop himself in time.

"I know that," his student replied heavily, surprising Rumplestiltskin. "Just…be careful, okay?"

"I always am," he said seriously, and Regina nodded once, choppily, before turning to leave the shop. Rumplestiltskin watched her go silently, leaning against the counter and wondering, not for the first time, how Regina had gone from student to something approaching a friend. She'd almost been his daughter, a fact he'd mulled over more than once, and something in him sometimes almost wished she'd been.

"That went well," another voice cut into his thoughts, and Rumplestiltskin turned, a smile tugging on his lips.

"About as well as can be expected, I think," he replied, watching Belle slip out of the back room. She and Renee had come to visit him for lunch, and their daughter was finally down for her afternoon nap on the bed in the back.

"Do you trust her?" his wife asked.

"As much as I trust anyone. Excepting you, of course." Coming around the corner, Rumplestiltskin met by the cash register, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. If anyone asked, Lacey was there to help do inventory in the shop, but in truth, Belle had just come because, even though they were finally able to live together, they could hardly bear to be apart.

She smiled, turning her head to kiss him on the lips. "Of course."

"Why do you ask?"

"You could tell Regina about us," Belle suggested. "It might make everything easier."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Cora has too much of a hold on her. Back home it was Daniel, and here it's Henry. Or even Mary Margaret or David. Cora won't hesitate to threaten any of them, and she'll make good on those threats, as you already found."

"You really think that she burned down the library to hurt Henry? He's _ten_. And he's her grandson!"

"Morality isn't really something that Cora considers within her decision making processes, sweetheart," he reminded her. "She has no heart, remember?"

"I remember," Belle said quietly, throwing him a worried look. Rumplestiltskin tried to ignore it, but she took his hand, anyway. Her next words were a whisper: "I just hate the way they all think that you're somehow forcing me."

"I _am_ a monster. It's not exactly a surprise."

"You're not a monster. Don't say that."

"Belle…"

"No," she cut him off firmly, her eyes fierce. "You're not. I've seen you at your worst, remember? I know what you are, Rumplestiltskin, and I know that you would never force me. Or anyone."

Stepping close to him, Belle kissed him gently before Rumplestiltskin could object, and he allowed his eyes to close and his body to relax. He _was _a monster, but at least he'd never been that kind of monster. Belle was right about that, if nothing else. Rumplestiltskin would never have forced her, no matter what had happened between them. He still wasn't sure how in the world he had managed to earn the love he was still certain he did not deserve, but Rumplestiltskin did know that Belle loved him. She was his light, the one thing that kept him grounded amongst his darkness, and he loved her more than words could express.

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

David had never seen a fairy before, so he watched in awe as the fairy woman flew through the open window to his chambers in George's castle. She was so small, barely bigger than his hand, clad in a sparkling blue dress and with dainty wings almost like those of a dragonfly. The fairy was beautiful in an ethereal and maternal kind of way, but she was so alien that David found himself staring, unable to even dredge up any words of greeting. Finally, she smiled and said:

"Greetings, Prince James. I am the Blue Fairy."

Somehow, David managed to keep his jaw from dropping. He'd heard of the Blue Fairy, of course; everyone had. She was the oldest and most powerful fairy in all of the Enchanted Forest, a legend. And now she was here, visiting a shepherd-turned-prince who still felt like he was an imposter…even after a year as a prince.

"I'm honored to meet you," he replied, bowing.

The Blue Fairy smiled. "And I have long wanted to meet you. Has Princess Snow told you that I am her family's patron fairy?"

"No, she didn't mention that." David's adopted family had once possessed a patron fairy, but she'd died mysteriously and George didn't seem overly concerned by that. The very idea of a royal family having an assigned fairy to call upon was still hard for David to wrap his mind around, though. He supposed that he'd been a peasant for too long for it to make sense.

"I'm not surprised. Snow is modest, and the last year has been very hard for her, following her father's tragic death."

That was putting things mildly. David remembered how many nightmares Snow had when they'd been on the run, how she'd whispered time and again how she should have saved her father somehow. King Leopold had spared Snow from having to commit patricide by drinking the poison himself, but Cora forcing Snow to take a part in her father's death had traumatized David's love greatly. She spoke of it rarely, now, but David knew that the wound in her heart would never fully heal. _Just like mine wouldn't if someone forced me to kill my mother, _he thought to himself, and then turned his mind back to the fairy with an effort. Thankfully, she was waiting patiently.

"Were you looking for her?" he asked. "I can get her—"

"No, that won't be necessary," Blue cut him off, something flashing through her eyes that David couldn't quite read. "I came to see you."

"Me?"

"Of course." Her laugh was light and gentle, but there seemed to be a bit of tension in her that he would not have expected out of the world's oldest fairy. "You have proven yourself to be consort worthy of our brave princess, and I wanted to give you a gift."

David blinked. "A gift? I didn't know fairies did that."

"Of course we do, although it's very rare. Here." A wave of her wand created a glittering swirl of purple fairy dust, and when it vanished, a beautiful, jeweled comb lay on the polished wood table to David's right. The comb was silver and covered in deep purple amethysts and dark blue sapphires, beautiful and easily valuable enough to feed a peasant family for years. It was worthy of the greatest of queens, simple and yet elegant, and David knew even George would approve of it.

"It's beautiful," he said honestly, not sure what else to say.

"And enchanted," the Blue Fairy replied. "This comb will protect the wearer from all manner of darkness, provided she is pure of heart."

"Which Snow definitely is," David agreed. She'd been hurt desperately by her father's death, but David was sure there was nothing that could harm the innate goodness within Snow White.

"Of course," the fairy agreed. "Give it to your love, and protect her in my name."

"Thank you," he finally remembered to say, and was rewarded by a motherly smile.

"You are _most _welcome, Prince James," Blue said, rising higher in the air and flying towards the window. "I will see you again soon."

David watched her go, noticing that the fairy disappeared after she was past the window frame instead of flying away like he would have expected her to. He'd always been taught that fairies had some abode within the clouds, something unreachable and mythical. Perhaps that was just a story, but he couldn't imagine the Blue Fairy going to some home here in the Enchanted Forest like any other mortal. He would have thought that she had to fly _up _to leave, but what did he know? He was probably thinking like a peasant again, making foolish assumptions about things a real prince would know.

Shrugging, David turned to look at the comb. It was one of those that doubled as a hairpiece; noblewomen wore them here at George's court, and it would certainly outshine any of the others David had ever seen. Snow wasn't as vain or as obsessed with jewels as many of those women, but she _did _like to look her best, so David expected she would like it. Even if she didn't, the fact that the Blue Fairy had enchanted it to protect her was plenty of reason to wear the comb, particularly after the Evil Queen's last attempt to kill Snow. Just thinking about that made David rub his shoulder reflexively; he didn't regret jumping in the way of that crossbow bolt—not for a single second—but the poison had nearly killed him. Cora hated Snow, and they all knew that the Evil Queen wasn't done trying to hurt her. Anything that stood in her way was a good thing, then.

The door opened just as he reached for the jeweled comb, and David turned to watch Regina stride in. He'd known that she was visiting again (quietly and not for long, so as to not let Cora notice), but he'd expected his prospective sister-in-law to spend all of her time with Snow. It wasn't that David didn't like Regina, because he did, but he hadn't been expecting to see her in his chambers.

"What's that?" Regina asked before David could ask why she'd come in.

"A gift for Snow. The Blue Fairy just left it for her," he answered, picking the comb up to show it to Regina. She was a woman, and a princess besides. She'd probably appreciate it a lot more than he did.

An odd expression crossed Regina's face, compelling David to add:

"She said it's enchanted to protect Snow from dark magic."

"Oh, it's enchanted all right." Without warning, Regina's hand came up, glowing red. She waved it over the comb, and much to David's surprise, the tips of its teeth started smoking and blazing a dangerously dark red. The entire comb suddenly felt heavy and _dirty_, and David dropped it in surprise, only to find it hovering in midair a foot beneath his hand when Regina caught it with magic. Snow's stepsister smiled darkly. "Just not with anything good."

"What are you talking about? The Blue Fairy—"

Regina cut him off with a snort, laughing bitterly. "If the Blue Fairy gave you this, David, she's a _lot _darker than anyone thinks, because _this _is dark magic. Very dark magic."

"I thought that fairies didn't do that," he objected.

"They don't." Regina's fingers twitched, and the comb started turning a slow circle in the air. "This is my mother's magic. It's some curse, though I can't identify exactly what."

Suddenly, everything made sense. The little tensions, the tick in 'Blue's' face when he had mentioned Snow, her eagerness to be gone before Snow—who knew the Blue Fairy—could arrive. They all added up to only one possible conclusion, and David felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. "You think that was your mother impersonating the Blue Fairy."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Regina replied with a shrug. "She hates Snow because she hated her mother, and Mother's always been good at holding a grudge. She didn't like the fact that you saved Snow last time, so I imagine she thought it would be particularly delicious to use you to hurt her."

"I'm not letting that happen," David said immediately.

"Neither am I."

Their eyes met, and for the first time, David felt truly close to Snow's sister. He'd had his misgivings in the beginning, particularly given how little his adopted father trusted Regina. George expected Regina to turn out just like Cora: a ruthless sorceress with power who was not afraid to hurt whomever she pleased. Of course, David disagreed with George on many things, but he _had _wondered if Snow's childhood love for her elder stepsister was blinding her to the truth. But this was twice now that Regina had interfered with her mother's plans to hurt Snow, and David realized that Snow's trust was entirely justified.

He wasn't a fool. David knew that he stood very little chance of stopping Cora by himself. She had powerful magic, and even with all of George's armies at their disposal, Cora would be hard to beat. But with Regina on their side, perhaps they'd be able to do actually beat her.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, his mom was entirely too easy to manipulate.<p>

Henry _had _planned everything carefully, though, so it wasn't a surprise when things worked out. After all, if Mary Margaret and his (grand)dad could start seeing one another, Regina deserved a bit of happiness, too. Cora had done too good of a job denying her daughter a happy ending in the Enchanted Forest, but Henry's grandmother had less power here. There, she'd been able to lock Daniel away and control Regina through him, but here she couldn't do that. To be honest, Henry hadexpected to find Daniel in the asylum, but when that hadn't happened, he'd started searching for his adopted mother's True Love. He'd started to lose hope when Regina refused to volunteer any information on him, until he'd remembered the man who had jumped in the fire to save him, Lacey, and Renee.

_Then _Henry remembered how his mother and Mr. Forrester had started to look at one another, and Henry knew True Love when he saw it. Regina might have been trying to be careful, too keep Cora from knowing, but Henry could see it. He was the grandchild of Snow White and Prince Charming. He _knew_, and that meant he needed to help the two of them out a little bit. Of course, Daniel couldn't possibly remember who he was. As far as he knew, he was just Errol Forrester. But that didn't mean he couldn't fall in love all over again, and Henry could make that happen.

He started subtly, hanging out at the fire station and making friends with Mr. Forrester under the guise of doing a project for class. It wasn't exactly a hardship—he liked the firefighter—and besides, Daniel was sort of his adopted father, anyway. Henry wanted to get to know him, and Mr. Forrester was brave and true, even if he didn't remember anything about who he'd once been. He was also very interested in Regina, although he tried really hard not to let on that he was. But the firefighter perked up when Henry mentioned his adopted mother, and it was easy to get him to go to Granny's with Henry so that Henry could 'interview' him about being a firefighter. Of course, the fact that he'd arranged to meet Regina there at the same time wasn't important. Not at all.

"Henry, what's this?" Regina asked, interrupting Henry's question about how you could safely run into a burning building to rescue people.

He looked up with a grin, trying not to laugh at Mr. Forrester's surprised expression.

"Homework," he answered (mostly) honestly. "Mr. Forrester is helping me with a school project."

"I see. And did you forget our lunch date?" his mother asked pointedly, and Henry knew he had to play this one carefully. _Regina _wasn't under the curse, so he had to be clever.

"Nope. I thought you could join us," he said as innocently as he could manage, noticing how the firefighter smiled.

"I don't bite, I promise," Forrester said to Regina, whose lips twitched into a smile.

"I didn't think you did," she assured him, slipping into a chair next to Henry. He hadn't sat in a booth for a reason, though, and sure enough, Ruby sauntered up before anyone could say another word.

"Hey, Henry, Emma just called for you," she said right on cue, and he gave her a big smile. "She was wondering if you could drop by the Sheriff's Station."

"Thanks!" Henry replied, and then turned to Regina. "Do you mind, Mom? I bet it'll be quick, and I'll be right back."

"Someone has a busy social life," she replied dryly, and then made a shooing gesture. "Go on."

"Love you!" Henry told her with a grin, and then darted out, leaving his adopted mother with her True Love. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud on his way to the Sherriff's Station, knowing that although Emma didn't expect him, Henry would easily find a way to stick around and let his mother and Mr. Forrester eat lunch without him.

_Operation Love Bug is a go!_

* * *

><p><span><em>4 Years Before the Curse<em>

"Can she do that?" Snow asked quietly after Regina and Charming were done explaining.

Her sister nodded. "It's called a glamour. It's a hard spell to master, but once you have, you can make yourself look like almost anyone. Mother's always been good at things like that."

"Right." Snow couldn't remember any other time she'd known of when Cora had disguised herself as someone else, but she wasn't surprised. Cora was the woman who had tried to make her kill her own _father_. Surely even impersonating the Blue Fairy was minor compared to that.

"Hey," Charming said softly, reaching out and squeezing her arm. "We stopped her. We'll stop her again, too, how every many times it takes. Regina and I are here for you."

Looking at the two people she loved most in the world united made Snow smiled slightly, but she couldn't shake the cold feeling that filled her soul. Cora wasn't going to stop, was she? _Not until I'm dead, _Snow knew, and even though Charming and Regina both tried to cheer her up, she couldn't make herself feel better. Charming had almost been killed protecting her last time. He might have been this time, too, had Regina not walked in when she did. And even if he hadn't, he would have been put in the same position Snow had: being Cora's pawn and forced to hurt someone he loved. Snow wouldn't wish that on anyone, but particularly not on Charming, who was the sole reason she'd managed to go on after her father's horrible death.

And Regina was in danger, too, all because of her. Because of Snow, Regina had chosen to oppose her mother. However quietly she might do that, Snow knew that Cora would eventually make her pay the price. _And Daniel. How can I forget him?_ Snow had only met Regina's stableboy once, but she knew how much Regina loved him. He was in danger, too, and all because of her.

She wasn't going to let this stand. She had to do something.

* * *

><p>The down side to having jetted out of Granny's so fast was that Emma didn't know he was coming and was therefore not alone. Henry supposed that he should clue her in on his plans—or some of them, anyway—in case Regina asked her what she'd wanted later on. Henry had been caught in enough lies that he knew better than to leave loose ends like that laying around, but the fact that Emma wasn't alone inside the Sheriff's Station put a bit of a cramp in his plans. He wasn't able to tell who it was from outside, but once he opened the door, Henry could hear two male voices answering Emma's rather irritated comment of:<p>

"Look, unless someone actually files a complaint or comes up with some _evidence _of wrongdoing, I can't do anything for you. I told you that before, Mr. French. It hasn't changed in the last week."

Henry's brow creased thoughtfully as he came into the main room to find Tony Rose there alongside Mr. French. What were _they _doing here? Had something happened in the flower shop?

"I can register a complaint," Tony was saying. "I know Lacey, and I know she wouldn't work for that monster unless she was forced. I say he kidnapped her and _made _her stay there."

"Lacey says otherwise," Emma countered, looking annoyed. "_She _says she's there by choice, and that nothing inappropriate is going on. You're going to have to do more than voice baseless accusations, Tony."

Both men scowled, and Mr. French tried again: "Tony is Lacey's boyfriend. He would know."

"Are you?"

Henry's birth mother was no dummy, and he could see her narrowing her eyes at Tony Rose and using her superpower. Henry was sure Tony had been Sir Gaston back in their world, and he'd tried to steal Belle away from the Beast there, too. Things in Storybrooke really were kind of predictable now that time was moving; people seemed to be trying to do the same things they'd been trying to do back home. Henry just wished that Emma could believe that!

"Of course I am," Tony snapped, looking proud of himself.

"I'm not sure I believe that. She certainly didn't seem very concerned with you when she told me that she's happy with her job," Emma retorted.

"She can't possibly be happy there, Sheriff," Mr. French protested. "That—that—_monster _has to be frightening her into saying such things."

Sighing, Emma rose. "Look, I'll admit that I think the situation is a little strange, and if you come up with any evidence that anything's wrong, I'll be happy to investigate. But my hands are tied. Until something happens, I can't do anything for you. I'm sorry."

Both men left, still grumbling and unhappy, but Henry just greeted them cheerfully. Mr. French at least offered him a wan smile, but Tony only scowled at the ten year old. Not that it bothered Henry; he knew that Tony was a big oaf, just like Sir Gaston had been. _No wonder why Belle fell in love with the Beast. At least he appreciated her intelligence! _Henry tried not to snicker, trying to imagine Lacey French carrying on an intelligent conversation with Tony. Tony would never have been able to keep up.

"They're wrong, you know," he told Emma with that thought still firmly in his mind. "Gold's the Beast, so Lacey's in the right place."

"Not that again," his birth mother groaned, turning to look at him tiredly.

"What? It's true."

"The real world doesn't always work like that, kid. I know you think that Gold is some 'Beast' out of a fairy tale, but he's a dangerous man," Emma replied. "Mr. French has a legitimate concern. If Lacey was my daughter, I don't think I'd want her living with Gold, either."

"That's just stupid," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "Mr. French hasn't talked to her in years, and besides, Lacey and Gold _belong _together. They're True Love, just like Mary Margaret and Dad!"

"I wish I could believe in that kind of happy ending, but I'm afraid that Lacey and Gold are going to end in disaster."

Henry shook his head. "It won't. You'll see."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**__ Alas, Henry can't be right all the time, and we all know that Errol Forrester is Robin Hood, and not Daniel. But poor Henry doesn't know that. _

_For anyone who noticed, I accidentally gave the summary for chapter 30 after the previous chapter, so I apologize for teasing people! Next up is the actual Chapter Thirty: "Worth Fighting For," where Emma confronts Gold about Lacey, Henry tries a new tactic, and Emma and Graham spend some time together. Back in the past, Snow does the wrong thing for the right reasons, Cora prepares her final vengeance for her stepdaughter, and Regina tries to resist her mother._

_If you haven't come on over to my tumblr yet, please do! I'll be posting FOTS snippets and other goodies as this story continues. There's a link in my profile, and my blog is called "To See How the Story Ends"._


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